Inspiration!

Abba: I want to look like the girls in this video. Over the knee boots, white backgrounds, dancing, being a beautiful Swede.



Gonna put in the want ads! Honey Cone is where it's at. Booty shorts + wigs + synchronized dance = my fantasy for my own band.



Mary Jane Girls...where have you been all my life? I just found out about this band this week, and it's rocking my world. This is a pretty darn sexy video. I love that each of the members has to have a persona: leather girl, Stevie Wonder braids, valley girl, etc.



More later!

Favorite Quotes

A new favorite quote:

"Personality begins when comparison ends." - Karl Lagerfeld

That is the gospel truth, right there.

The Dot and the Line: A Romance in Lower Mathematics

Norton Juster, you man of my dreams: I had known the wonder that was The Phantom Tollbooth, but Claire introduced me to The Dot and the Line this weekend, and it was the sweetest thing I'd ever read. Ever! So cute. This is the video of the story, from 1965.



xo,
Alison

More...Blogging?

Don't jinx it! I'm still here, somehow! Though I am in a Vick's Vapo' Rub induced haze of stickiness, I'm still able to press my paws into the keyboard. So. Yeah. Here I am.

The day has started early, as I woke up with many different nightmares at 6:30 on a Sunday morning and could not go back to sleep. The world is not fair. All of my nightmares had to do with the fact that I had my window open, as my room is a stifling heat box, and I was afraid that someone was going to put a ladder to the side of my house and break into my room. (?) I'd wake up with a weird hallucination that a coat on the floor was someone creeping toward me, and freak out. My brain can make anything look like a rapist at 4 a.m.

Since I woke up so early, I've taken it upon myself to do more research on that werewolf syndrome. You know, "werewolf boys." Also, as long as I was going on that vein, I'm also doing some reading on bearded ladies.

Also, here's a short list of things I have my eye on. Etsy 4 lyfe!



This skirt be WeHeartHeartbreaker (close friend of my other Etsy fave ImYourPresent) is so clean and high waisted and '90s. I just want to put on some keds and dance down to The Max with this thing on.



Ethnic poncho much? This thing is genius! It has a Mayan looking guy on the back. This is like Madonna's pyramid jacket from Desperately Seeking Susan, except for NOW.



This print by jenniferdavis is so evocative. I love all of her work.

Um, what else? I'm listening to "How Bizarre" by OMC on repeat, contemplating showering, and attempting to buy an Ewok doll and some glove molds on Ebay. Too much free time?

Lazy Sattaday

Dear internet diary:

What a long and productive day it has been. And don't you love my virtual reality glasses? (Yeah, I wish those were mine.) After two days of housebound crappiness and flooey illness (aches, phlegm, sniffles, toilet hugging), I'm back on my feet and attempting to live life again.

Today!

First, I got up and prepared questions for an interview - look for it in the April/May issue of BUST! - then did the interview, which went pretty well. I was worried that I would be weirded out or intimidated, but it was actually really casual and nice. I think the article is going to turn out really well.

Then I went and met Claire, and we met Chelsea to get our nails done. I sat in a really aggressive massage chair and eventually got my nails painted what I thought was royal blue, but is something closer to spandex pants at the Olympics. Chelsea had a tiny woman do her nails and it took her about an hour. I don't know why this was, but it was kind of insane. Claire got a pedicure.

From there, we all toddled over to Treehouse and all bought things we couldn't afford. Chelsea got a stylish little 40's hat, Claire a leopard sexy secretary blouse, and me some leather moccasins to complete my "sexy lumberjack" exterior. We chatted with Siri, the owner, and she's pretty rad.

From there, we went and got sushi in Greepoint (sweet potato tempura, yes!) and I couldn't finish mine for the first time - well, ever. I'm a sushi black hole, but this damn flu is keeping me down. Over the course of dinner we recited quotes from both Clueless AND Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion, so I was happy.

Now, I'm back to my slightly upright position in bed, awaiting a possible 90's party in Bushwick, if I can gather the strength. My f-pack has got to make an appearance tonight, and my spandex nails are ready for the occasion.

January 19, 2008! That was it. So far.

Lessons Learned, My Children

Lately I've learned a few things about myself and the universe which I thought I'd share. I was kind of inspired by Learning to Love You More's project on giving advice to yourself at a younger age. This is advice for me, for you, for anyone. Musings, away!

one. Do not eat dark chocolate in bed. It will stain the sheets worse than period blood and it will never, ever come out. Then you will have to buy new sheets AGAIN, even though you just did because a lamp exploded and got glass stuck in all of your old bedding. Sheets are expensive. Don't ever buy white ones, even though they seem really "rich" and like you live in a hotel. You will live to regret this decision.

b. Don't dismiss something just because it's popular. Sometimes, these things are popular for a reason - because they're really good. You will learn later in life that Bob Dylan, Led Zeppelin and Neil Young are actually pretty awesome, and that you missed out on a crucial driving around soundtrack in high school/college just because you were way too much of a pretentious turd to appreciate these bands in your youth, and instead chose to devote yourself to, like, Portishead or some crap like that.

3. Things that matter one day really don't matter the next. Stuff I cared about or thought was cool two years ago really couldn't be further from my mindset at this point. Don't assume that just because something didn't happen the way you wanted at one point, that it messes everything else up in the future. I'm not a hippy-dippy person by any means, but I do believe that things happen for a reason. If I give the universe any credit, this is it.

iv. Grow out your hair just once in your life. Girl or boy - totally worth it. Nothing like long hair down your back.

five. Go to anything you're invited to. If someone goes to the trouble to invite you, it's most likely something cool, and you probably will have a good time and meet some new people. Never turn down an opportunity.

6. Kiss any and all people you can. A little smooching never hurt anyone. Love is for sharing. Being a prude is overrated. Also, germs are for sharing, too.

seven. Everything is worth the wait. Most of the time.

otto. I really love "Love My Way" by the Psychedelic Furs right now. I really wish I'd been where I am in my life NOW, but in the early 80's. It's a sad thing to say, as it will never happen, but I really feel for that time.

nononine. I actually do like cats, even though I never thought I did. They're fat and soft and lay like a pillow on your and purr and don't bark. Yeah, they scratch occasionally, but they've got 'tude. I like that.

All My Children

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car)
Patches

2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie)
Chunky Munkey Oreo

3. YOUR "FLY Guy/Girl" NAME: (first initial of first name, first three
letters of your last name),
A-FEL

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal),
Green Otter Baby

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)
Aubrey Dubuque

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first
2 letters of your first),
Felal

7. SUPERHERO NAME: ("The" + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink),
The Turquoise Ginger Ale

8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers),
Carl Henry

9. STRIPPER NAME: ( the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent,
favorite candy),
Very Sexy Skittles

10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother's & father's middle names ),
Jayne Arnold

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher's last name, a
major city that starts with the same letter)
Detweiller Detroit

12. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower).
Halloween Orchid

13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you're wearing
right now + "ie" or "y")
Kiwi Flannelie

14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree),
Eggs Oak

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: ("The" + Your fave hobby/craft, fave
weather element + "Tour"),
The Bedazzling Raindrops Tour

Buy me this

...that is all.

The future of all my relationships

matt: lionel richie
alison: OMG
alison: why is it $30?!
alison: i want, i want
matt: embroidered by hand
matt: buy it
matt: it rules
alison: i might have to do that
emily___: it's beautiful and poetic
alison: but how best to showcase it?
alison: could i stick it out of the back pocket of my pants?
matt: imagine dropping that when a potential suitor struts by
alison: that hanky is what relationships should be based upon
matt: not "should be"... will be
alison: be still my heart!

Miss Lonelyhearts

I know I'm trying to be less "angry" and all, but it's Sunday, why the fuck not. Anyway, my beef of the day concerns people who get angry on public transportation.

Dear Angry Seatmate on the train or bus:

Please, please, pleasefortheloveofchrist shut your mouth. I know you're late for that pressing paint sale at K-Mart, but could you kindly stop complaining so loud that everyone around you is forced to watch you hissy, and no, I'm not even going to phrase it as a question. We're in an enclosed space, we can't help traffic, and I can't help thinking you would immediately start slamming my head against a wall or eat my face if we got stuck underground, so could you please stop speaking under your breath with all the curse words and terrible imagery? You make my innards quiver, and not in that good way I like.

Sincerely,
I'm the one staring at all the advertisements,
please don't look at me,
Alison

P.S. You know that feeling when you drink too much coffee and you feel like your throat is closing and you might just ralf everywhere? This is mostly an iced-coffee oriented phenomenon, for me. Feeling it.

WHO KNEW

HO-LEE SHIT

I have a whole new sense of respect for Joan Rivers.



Gwar? REALLY? Why was I not watching this when it was on?



And Pee Wee? That makes a little more sense, but STILL. MIND IS BLOWN.

Road hell

Shit.

Well, sorry it's been so long, but I won't bother with all the apologizing crap. I had things to do! It's been an eventful six weeks! It...I...meh, I've already run out of steam on this rant.

Anywho!

So, I bought a bike. And what a crazy trip it's been since my whirlwind purchase took place!

Last Sunday I simply toddled up to a street vendor, mildly intoxicated from some brunchy mimosas, wildly waving a wad of cash in my sweaty fist. I demanded bike options and test drives. After testing the first bike that was tall enough in a slow, methodical circle on the sidewalk, I quickly purchased it and began my trek home. (Yes, I only tried out one bike, then bought it immediately. I'm a rube, what can I say?)

It immediately became clear that I'm going to have to be become much more of a badass if I'm going to ride a bike in this city. Simply put, I'm a bit of a pansy, a wuss, a child without a pacifier. There's really no denying it: I didn't even make it all the way home. I was seriously purple-in-the-face halfway through my first ride, so out of breath that I just coasted over to the nearest subway stop and started climbing the stairs. It was a fluid, instinctual motion -- coast, stairs, mournful acknowledgment of failure.

However, I didn't allow my first shameful bike ride keep me benched. The idea of taking a leisurely bike jaunt was just too appealing -- riding on seldom used streets, enjoying the scenery and quickly escaping all the looky-loos that love to make squelchy kissy noises as I walk by.

Well, that hasn't quite happened yet. In reality, the actual experience has been more akin to the scene in Clueless where Dionne, Cher and Murray accidentally get on the freeway. Except, it's not the freeway, it's a busy Brooklyn street. And I'm not in the safety of a car, I'm just screaming into the wind, on a bike, four inches from passing cars, by myself, while my heart beats at the rate of a small, defenseless squirrel cornered by an angry mongoose. I might also add that I sweat like it's going out of style, so I'm completely drenched once I reach my destination. If nothing else, it keeps all the holler-ers off my ass!

However, hooray for not taking the bus, though! I'll get used to this bike thing -- I've just got to get a helmet and lose that horrible fear that I'll be picked off any moment now. Insurance be damned!

A promise is a promise is a promise

I promised I would tell about some of my other stories more in depth. Well, I'm no liar! At least, today I'm not.

So, I was at the thrift store in my neighborhood. It was my day off and I had a case of the "nothing-to-do's," so I toddled down to the nearest locale where I could submerge my my upper half in mite-infested clothes. If pressed, you could say I was on a mission. If lazy, you could say I had nothing better to do. Potato, patahto, if you ask me. I was there to get some dirty clothes, and that was the end of it.

I don't know about you, but a day off is a headache for me. No obligations? What to do? Where to start? How can I avoid spending money? I want to lay in bed - NO YOU DON'T, ALISON, GET OUT OF BED - but I'm lazy! - GET OUTSIDE! - but if I'm outside I have a manic desire to spend money I do not have! - WEATHER! - laziness!

Yeah, you get the idea. It's all Sybilly in there.

SO I'M AT THE JUNK STORE. I casually pick up the largest pair of shoes in my eyeline, hoping they may possibly be my size. As I'm wrestling the shoe on to my foot, I look up to see an older, friendly-looking black lady dressed entirely in lime green standing over me.

Older lady: "Those shoes look great."

I'm flustered and doubled over on the ground, so I wobble upwards and say thanks.

Older lady: "I don't think I've seen you around here before. Are you new to the neighborhood?"

Now, at first, I thought this was a trick question, because the weekend before some bitchy woman in Bed-Stuy thought it would be funny to say "Welcome to the neighborhood!" to me and my similarly pasty friends. Needless to say, it was not sincere. I can't help gentrification, people! I wasn't the first whitey to move here and I won't be the last! SOWWY!

So, I say that yes, I am relatively new to the neighborhood. She asks me what I do, I say I'm a writer, and then the fun really begins. (And you thought this story was just about me getting lice! Boy, were you wrong!)

Geraldine (as we are now on a first name basis) quickly lets me know that we were meant to meet each other. She is a minister, a lady of god, and she needs someone to write her biography -- and girl, it is juicy!

First off, Geraldine is 61 years old, loves Jesus, and had one prayer her entire life: TO NOT GET OLD.

Well, her prayers worked out. This woman did not look a day over 35. It was totally crazy. Apparently, she'd found the fountain of youth and it was in a church or something.

She had also been married for forty years, had numerous affairs with doctors that drove Benzes (called her "menz," btdubs), and was completely devoted to being a strong-minded, take no shit wah-MAN. She went into exquisite detail over her first orgasm ("after two years of marriage! what the hell is that? i was all laying there, just letting him do his business, and then i was like, HELL naw!"), said I was a cute lil white girl, and had me cornered with a pile of dirty shoes for an hour and a half.

This woman was magic.

An annoying, take-my-whole-day-yapping kind of magic, but magic, nonetheless.

So, after recommending that I get highlights, change my entire wardrobe and come to her house for a silk jacket that would do wonders for my slouching (?), she waltzed me out of the store and into the street, whereupon she began to introduce me to complete strangers as her daughter and demand that they "respect me."

Yes, you heard me right. I wish I had footage of my face when she said this stuff.

The first group of people she approached were two teenage girls with babies, smoking on a corner. She approached them with a hearty "God bless!", then started in with the questioning.

"What should my white girl daughter do if men give her trouble?"

Both of them looked me up and down, and one replied that I should "cuss em out."

This was not the answer Geraldine desired. She had been coaching me on all this stuff about telling guys that hoot and holler that "Jesus loves you and SO DO I!", which I personally did not see getting me anywhere. She brushed off their answers, insisted that the girls be nice to me whenever they saw me around, and above all to "respect me."

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

I was finally able to get rid of Geraldine by coming up with some cockamamie story about taking care of a sick cat. I was really pulling it out of my ass. She was a nice lady! But a kwaaayzy, fountain-of-youth worshipping time monopolizer! I couldn't take the heat! I'm sowwy! Don't blame me, I'm just a cute white girl!

P.S. I had a suspicion this was all about getting me to go to her church. A sneaking one, at that. She hasn't called me yet (I gave her my number! I couldn't help it! She's a strong wo-man!) but I bet she will. Or, she better. My weekends are open!

All dogged up and ready to eat fur

Observations of recent note:

- I made an omelette the other day and it smelled like hot fur. Do you know what I'm talking about? Like, when your dog comes inside from being in the sun, and you hug him, and his fur smells...hot?

(You know what I'm talking about, don't even try to pretend you don't.)

Anyway, my omelette smelled like that. I know there's a mouse living under my stove, and after the last mouse killing incident (Long story short - don't ever get those glue strip things and put them under your stove because you will listen to mouse screaming FOR HOURS), I was somehow afraid that mouse-death-fur had tainted my food.

However, it didn't taste like burning fur, it just smelled like it. Happy ending!

- On another fur note, my dogs always come in from being outside in cold weather and smell like a honey ham. It smells delicious.

- I saw a woman with a "Fuck You You Fucking Fuck" shirt on. Needless to say, she's asking for it. However, I did covet the shirt. It would be a good pajama shirt.

- I'm all about nouns as verbs, such as "beached up and ready to party!" (A la Trinie Dalton) Other nouns as verbs that I'm looking to add to my daily dialogues include "computering" and "magicking."

- I'm currently working in an office lit completely by candles and oddly colored track lighting, dead flowers (on purpose!), little wire sculptures wrapped in string, rap videos on in the background and lots of art magazines laying around. I could get used to this. It's like my idea of a perfect freaky funeral. Or maybe just my perfect office? Whatever it is, I love it.

TURN-OFFS: The beach, having to pay for things, racist people, Orientals

So you should totally read this funny, awesome interview with Amy Sedaris in The Believer...only it's from three years ago. Yeah, I know, but whatever.

Enjoy!

How's your stump?

WELL!

I'm currently busy as a bee, working up a storm on some idotic letters at work (yawn!), but I gotz lotz 'n' lotz of faboo stories for to blog about very, very soon!

INCLUDING but not limited to!

- Posing as a prospective apartment seeker in order to have a "fake date" with someone who doesn't even know it is a date. (This blew up in my face, so it's a good one! He was gay. Of course.)

- Being cornered by a female minister in a thrift store for an HOUR AND A HALF while she attempts to convince me to write her life story. Here's a taste: she told me about her first "o-face" in the first ten minutes (no joke!) and introduced me to complete strangers on the street and told them to "respect me." Crazytown!

- My life and times as a library worker. It looks like Fort Knox in here. Maybe that's just my impression. But it does.

- I saw Grindhouse and it was AMAZING!!!!! Also, this man was in the audience.



Read 'em and weep! Dee Snider! Twisted Sister!

Also, in the meantime until I get my act together and actually fill you in on all this, read up on A.M. Homes, my most favoritest author in the world. The title of the article is about the catharctic nature of vomiting - c'mon, y'know this woman is all up in my steez. I love her!

New fashion inspiration

Fashion is a fickle beast. One moment you've got a look going, the next it's just not good enough.

Thus, I have chosen a new style idol: Dottie from Pee Wee's Big Adventure.



You heard it here first! From here on out it's suspenders, ponytail, keds, maybe even puffy hair.

Also, after a recent viewing of Weird Science, I've decided the 80's-ness of my wardrobe could stand to be increased ten-fold. This is also a part of my plan.

Carry on!

If I were a serial killer...

What kind of serial killer would I be?

People dream about all kinds of things – money, fame, sex – you name it! Me? I think about what kind of serial killer I would be. It seems morbid, but really, who doesn’t see serial killers for the innovative and misunderstood souls they are? Aileen Wournos had a refreshing white trash appeal, and Jeffrey Dahmer did have some boyish good looks! Please, take a second to look past my bookish exterior to the raging degenerate within.

If I were a serial killer, I wouldn’t be slaying willy-nilly. I would be a totally methodical, clean killer. Like, classy – eating brains with three forks and never even reaching for a napkin to dab my blood-stained mouth. I’d be the seductive black widow, collecting and disposing of husbands with nary a care in the world. One week I’d be living the high life, eating Cinnabons by the box and living at the Regency, the next I’d be carting an oversized duffel bag while trolling around a truck stop. Being a serial killer means you never know what’s around the corner!

One example of my method: I would kill a guy and then stuff his body with clothes I’d been meaning to give to Goodwill. We’d sunbathe, brunch and hit the clubs Weekend at Bernie’s style (read: sunglasses and large, floppy hat) until I had a full-on man-harem. Whenever anyone questioned me about one of my entourage’s various stages of decomposition, I’d be all, “Jacque has a meth problem and a lazy eye, but does that mean he isn’t entitled to kick back on va-cay?” Problem solved!

And just think about the fashion options! Being a killer leaves a lot of pricey materials at your disposal. I could make snappy vest/pantaloon combos out of human skin and they’d always match. For accessories, I’d make elaborate belts out of braided hair or even a stylish pageboy wig for a change of pace. Hello, frugality! (In case you didn’t know, wigs are fucking expensive. This may seem like a more labor-intensive method, but trust me – you’re saving a lot of pennies out of this deal.)

Also, instead of buying one of those cheap-looking tooth necklaces in Chinatown, I could be wearing the real thing. I could even have a fancy umbrella or dandy cane with a shrunken head on the top. Seriously, you’ve got to use all the parts or you’re just being wasteful. Take it from the Indians on this one.

As for excuses, when anyone questions the stench coming from my apartment, I could totally play it off with my librarian-esque persona. “Little old me? Why, I’m too busy re-shelving soiled copies of Sex for One to kill anybody!”

Of course, this is all before the getting caught part. But this is all hypothetical, right?

P.S. Please stay out of my crawl space. It’s…crowded.

After practice we need to taaaaalk!

This video involves half a sip of wine cooler, a taped nose and a chihuahua purse.

Need I say more?



Relive Christmas with the Long Island mother that lives within each and every one of us. And don't fucking touch that tree!

I don't know who this guy is, BUT I LOVE HIM!

VidSquidWahwah

Jane Wiedlin and Sparks...aw, man. So amazing! So cute! And Jane Wiedlin in her little suit...Where do I get a little suit like that?



More Sparks. I love them too much, especially Ron Mael with his little Chaplin mustache. (Adorable!) I prefer the original video with the assembly line of Maels and all the pretty girls working in the factory, but, sadly, it wasn't on Youtube.