Vivienne Westwood Inspired Party

The Vivienne Westwood show at the De Young Museum gave me a great party idea. It's a cocktail party (as they all should be) but you supply bins of scrap materials (ex. taffeta or chiffon or cotton remnants), plastic bags, paper, etc., and bins of tape and staplers and have your guests make their own dresses out of the stuff, while they drink booze and eat appetizers. Then everyone can have their picture taken as a souvenir to take home. One could even venture out in the creations.

In my heart I imagine a group of drunken scrap-partydress clad ladies terrorizing our lovely town.

Mastering the Clear Bag

My friends say to me "Babe, I love those clear bags but I can't carry one because everyone will see the embarrassing stuff I carry".

To which I reply "RIGHT ON!"

Currently I'm carrying my clear bag filled with empty pill capsules that I bought online. There is nothing as glamorous as trying to dig your lipstick out of a pile of pills. Nothing. Just think of it, when you're looking for your lipstick you can have bystanders hold fists full of your pills while you search. What better way to make friends?

When I get tired of the pills I'm going to fill it with tampons.

Then maybe empty prescripton bottles or orange ear plugs? Condoms? M&Ms? The possibilities are endless.

The Dress I'll Wear in Heaven

Behold.
sigh...
Dior, of course, Fall 2008 RTW

The Cross Dresser Test

I'm walking down the street the other day wearing my fave boots, turquoise cowboys, and I pass a guy standing at a trash can. He doesn't really look like a bum but he does look like John Waters, so I quicken my step.

As I pass he chirps "I'm married!" so I walk faster then he shouts "But I'm also a cross dresser and those are the best boots I've ever seen in my life!" I stopped in my tracks, turned around and blew him a kiss.

You know you look hot when the cross dressers appreciate your outfit. They usually had to dream about it for a long time before they could bust out and go with it. God love 'em.

Sleep - Freedom's Last Virgin Wilderness

Society wants to make me feel bad about sleeping all the time. Apparently I'm supposed to feel lazy (which for some reason has a negative connotation) because I go to bed at 10p.m., don't get up until 11:30a.m. and nap from 4 to 7p.m.

Why? you ask. Why do they care? I'll tell you why. It's because sleep is the last untouched wilderness of Freedom. They can tax tobacco, illegalize drugs, and throw you in jail for drinking booze but there is nothing they can do to regulate your sleep.

Oh but they try. Making everything so expensive that we have to work all the time, waking up early and going to bed late, is nothing more than an attempt to control our sleep. Still though, there is no direct route they can take to regulate it.

Why is sleep so threatening? Think of this: if you had to choose between supporting the current government and being able to sleep which would you choose? See?

Also, sleep keeps me from contributing to money transfers that are essential to funding our current society.

For example:

1. When I'm sleeping I'm not eating. So I'm dieting without the aid of diet programs, pills, or professionals.

2. I age slower because I'm conscious less often. Hence I'm not getting plastic surgery or buying anti-aging products.

3. It brings me closer to my dream of dying peacefully in my sleep (let me explain the logic here: if you want to die in a clown suit wear the clown suit a lot). If I die peacefully in my sleep they're going to miss out on all the money I'd have to spend on doctors, medicine and hospitalization.

You see, when I sleep I don't just do it for my own benefit, I do it for Freedom. Feel free to thank me between 12 and 3p.m., when I'm awake.

Not so Smart

I bought a pair of rad shoes off of ebay express. Shoes I had wanted forever but was too cheap to buy full price, plus I figure if I don't buy something and still want it in 6 months it must be a classic that will last. All the stuff I think will be out of style in a month, I buy immediately at full price because, as noted before, I'm smart.

More proof. So I got the shoes and opened them up and took one out to try it on. Needless to say it looked hot. Then I got into a cleaning frenzy, because I had done A LOT of online shopping lately and there were empty boxes all over the living room. So I started breaking all of them down to shove them into the recycling chute, we live on the 5th floor.

Breaking down boxes is boring, so I thought I'd beat the system by just ripping my address off of the boxes and throwing them whole down the shoot. I felt so smart and cool, and my place looked less like a garbage dump, a little.

A few hours later I'm getting ready to go out and I decide to wear my sweet new shoes. Um, but I can only find one. Then I realized I had tossed the other one out in the box down the recycling chute. I ran down to the basement but the bin had already been emptied.

Now I have one shoe and a lesson to remind me that in cheating the gods of recycling, we're really only cheating ourselves, or maybe that I'm just lame.

Blown Opportunities

I never blew anybody worthwhile. I realized this yesterday. My friend's novel is being submitted to a literary agent by a girl who's sure the agent will read it, because she's blown him. There’s no one I can say that about.

You know, as a young lady, you try to pick out the ones who are going to be somebody, like guys in bands, popular guys, the handsome ones, the ones who are good at sports. But I came up wrong across the board. Not one of them amounted to anything worthwhile to me. And we're in our 40s now so they've had plenty of time. Sure there are a few lawyers here and there, but no one who could do me any good. No agents, no one who could fund a startup or bankroll a fashion line, no one famous and certainly no one who could get my novel published, or even read.

And what really sucks is that all my life I've secretly been in love with the lanky, backpack toting, science nerds. I'd go to my classes early if Physics, or something sciencey, was the class before mine. I'd swoon over the nerds as they shuffled out of the classroom, their corduroy pants making that "zuh zuh" noise as they went by. Watching them gave me a feeling that I could only describe as "thrilling". I thought it was the attraction/repulsion thing but dammit, now I know it was the animal nose of my ambition telling me that's who I should blow.

The geeks I secretly adored, and yet would only be friends with, have become CEOs, Hollywood producers, computer geniuses, and plastic surgeons. Most of them are already financially independent. They're jetting around the world, making the deals that mean something. While the recipients of my blowing efforts are providing shitty service at Kinko's.

If there is one thing I could do for my life, one thing that would make all of my efforts fruitful, all the humiliation and unpleasantness worth something, I'd go back in time and I would blow those nerds.

New Do in View

I've always had curly hair and I've spent my life battling it. Then I saw Goldfrapp with this hairdo and I had a revelation. The time and money I waste trying to fight my natural hair is just stupid, it's time to embrace it and go for the gusto.

I'm becoming more and more anti people trying to go against their natural looks, so hell if I'm going to do it myself. It's a sad waste of nature's extravagance.

Take any man-made structure and compare it to the beauty and innovation of nature's creations. Man-made stuff fails miserably, even the most innovative and creative man-made structures are just attempts at a closer imitation of nature.

So if we wrestle our bodies into some manmade idea of what we should look like, we castrate our innate beauty. And yet that's exactly what we do, we spend our time and money trying to battle the attributes we're given by nature itself, like my friend who hides her amazing booty, or my sister blowdries the curl out of her hair every day.

I know it benefits lots of people for us to spend time and money trying to change our physical appearance and that we're under a constant marketing onslaught because of this.

But we're much stronger than that, if only because we have nature and truth on our side.

BSG Cocktail Invention

It's called a Baby Aspirin. It's Absolute Mandarin vodka & soda water.
I swear it tastes just like the orange flavored chewable children's aspirin of my youth. The taste brings memories of being taken care of, flooding back. And just like the aspirin, it makes me feel better.

Batshit Glam Grocery List

Today my shopping list consists of arch supports and a daily pill organizer.
Granted the supports are for some Manolo's and the pills are vitamins but still. Kind of sad

The Ultimate BSG Designer

I, we, worship Hussein Chalayan. His fashion creations are beyond compare, not only are they beautiful, they transform in real-time, as you can see in this video.

What could be more Batshit Glam than to go about your day in a perpetually transforming dress?

Street Porn in SF

Just try and tell me this isn't complete filth.

And it's in plain view on the street in Chinatown. Where children can see it.

It reminds me of my early days of drinking, this particular time I learned that Creme de Menthe is not to be chugged.

Batshit Glam Hat

Check out this rad hat from Mark Jacobs Sp '08 collection. It is so dang cool! I'm going to make myself something like this. I'll post a picture when I'm done.

BSG Lifestlye

All those days I spent awake, slaving away in an office, produced hardly more than some well filed papers. But these days, when I wake up around 11:30, never leave the house, and nap from about 3 until my husband gets home to take me out to dinner, have produced invaluable creations and discoveries that are a benefit to all of humanity.

For instance, once when I was really hungry and all I had in the house was potatoes, but I was too lazy to go to the store and too hungry to wait the time it takes to boil a potato, I invented the recipe for Quick Potatoes, and here I give it to you for free:

1. Put the potatoes in water.
2. Boil them until you can't stand it anymore.
3. Take them out of the water and cut off any part of the potato that has cooked.
4. Eat 'em up.

Also, my laziness has directly contributed to exciting innovations in the area of new cocktail recipes. Because I don't really leave the house, I'm usually short on mixers. Though I always somehow seem to have vodka around. So recently when guests stopped by and all I had on hand, besides vodka, was Lipton's canned iced tea, I broke through the conventions of cocktails that have come before and invented a new drink called the "Trailer Trash Toddy". That the drink sucked only added to the authenticity of my invention because one of the guests confirmed that living in a trailer also sucked. And, yet another time, I discovered that if you don't have Lipton's canned iced tea on hand, Mountain Dew and vodka sucks too.

But I would have to say that my regularly bad-mouthed lifestyle has contributed most to humanity in the area of safety. Because of my courage to follow a less common path, we all now know that if you're out of shaving cream, and are too lazy to go to the store, you should NOT try to shave your legs with sex lube. It sounds like a perfectly good idea, but it isn't. The razor burn is severe and it turns into a thick scab that prevents you from wearing skirts or shorts for weeks.

So next time you catch yourself looking down on the lazy, stop and be thankful that some of us are brave enough to move beyond the lemming's path of false productivity.

BS Glam Dress

I got this little number at Elizbabeth Charles on Fillmore St. Elizabeth herself picked it out for me. She is sooooo good! The dress is rather mini so I wear shorts under it, they're dolphin shorts with VEGAS written across the butt in rhinestones. hot

Of course I got lipstick all over it the first day. I just can't handle the responsibility of light colored clothing.

Once I was looking at a straw bag at Kate Spade but when I found out it was untreated (unprotected from stains), I told the sales girl I'd ruin it with coffee spills within minutes of owning it. She suggested I not drink coffee when I carried the purse. I suggested she get real.

Batshit Glam Shoes

Wow. These are the perfect shoes for the sub-class of Batshit Glamour called Jackie Ho - a mix of Jackie O style outfits and hooker style shoes.

Batshit Glam Shades

Behold my new Batshit Glam style accessory. The Balenciaga Round-Lens Degrade Sunglasses.

Perfect shades for the glamour that makes you go "huh?"

Batshit Glamorous Style

Recently I haven't been satisfied with an outfit unless I add a new element to it. I like to call it the "unexpected element".

Today my outfit was perfect.

A navy cashmere sweater - giving me classic elegance
A bright purple pencil skirt - for the always important glamour
and
Intentionally crooked lipstick - to give my look that indispensable feeling of batshit crazy.

I'm calling my new style "Batshit Glamorous". And I expect it to spread.

Batshit Glam can be anything from going out perfectly dressed but with your zipper undone to flesh colored socks with tennis shoes. Just so long as it makes spectators ponder your sanity.

It's just like how I drive. If I'm in a sticky situation, like trying to merge when no one will let me, I start swerving a lot so that people give me more room, the kind of room you'd want to give to someone who's nuts.

When one of my idols, Darla, a producer on Monsters Inc., went to the movie premier, she wore a beautiful gown with a sock stuck to her back, as a tribute to the movie. She thought it was amazing but the rest of the people on the red carpet were mortified for her. Now that's Batshit Glam!

Really it's the next step in beauty, we've all mastered the craft so now it's time to take it up a notch.

Currently I'm investing in alarming vingage hats, mounted animal head jewelry and a Dali-esque mustache.