Jumpstart the kickstart

It's time to create the Fall/Winter 2011 collection need some hefty funds to make all the pretty designs reality.  Thus,  I made a kickstarter project to fund it.  There's some pretty awesome (super awesome) rewards to tickle your fancy.





A dollar, two, three, all would be apprecciated.  Doesn't matter if you donate out of curiosity or for a pretty necklace or ring, I'll be grateful for your donation.

Why

Why do I kept getting asked if I'm returning to my homeland whenever I say I'm visiting whatever country in Asia? No...I'm just going for vacation...

Why do religious people sometimes seem to be the most sinful? Using religion as reason for..anything.  "The pilgrimage sites were quick to capitalize on the sometimes massive visitations.  In essence, they advertised the miraculous benefits that pilgrims might realize by visiting their towns, and reaped the economic rewards" I, a "heathen," would never do that.  and even if I did, I wouldn't try to hide behind the lame excuse of religion.  And this is why I distrust organized religion.  I want to walk up to a one of these so-called Christians one day and say " You sir, are sinful!" And wait patiently as they condemn me to hell with a range of synonyms and euphemisms so vast that Roget would be beaming.

Why do Oreos taste so good even though they're basically made from crap? Yes, a warm, chewy homemade cookie is divine but can it replace the  sandwich of crackly meagerness and chemical shortening filling that is The Oreo?

Why is it cool to be one of the guys, but totally not to be one of the girls?

a real character

I have a professor, who, though eager to please, always manages to press the wrong buttons. He's a people pleaser, but with a Castronian sense of how the people should be pleased.   In appearance, he is equal parts Roald Dahl character (perhaps a mix of Charlie Bucket and BFG--the Quentin Blake illustrations), the quintessential pasty pointed face that's perpetually flushed from either embarrassment or repressed rage that flourishes in the pages of British children's novels.  Gabe from the Office in nervous lankiness, Bill Nye the Science Guy with his neatly parted waves of amber grain as repressed as his anger.  If he were a Modern Family character, he would be Mitchell.  The bad cop that always wants to be the fun parent and desperately asserts it by exclaiming, "I AM easy-going, dammit!" while his face flushes once more and he punctuates the statement with a bang of his fist.

current cravings

1. belgian waffles
2. stroopwafles
3. dulce de leche
4. spekuloos
5. spaghetti and meatballs
6. sea urchin pasta
7. foie gras
8. avocado sushi
9. guacamole
10. falafel
11. buffalo wings
12. poutine
13. popcorn chicken

you've been dooced.

There's the old-new age mantra, if you don't like it, don't read it.  Which was real big on dooce; the first time I stumbled onto the site the latest post was a routine exposure of all the gutless hatemail she receives,  passages from letters hung out to dry so that the internet public could shake their heads and throw tomatoes.  The writing felt biting and sardonic which was a sharp contrast to the colorful but pc design blogs I was principally reading. which I suppose was interesting to me at the time because this wasn't just a grown up lady's words, this was a mom.  Even though I have cousins her age, she just seemed like a real adult. And though the hatemail was as if written by a very angry and disapproving nine year old, her own writing was bitter and deadpan (albeit in a cool way), it made me wonder who exactly was the crazy one.  But she seemed so cool, with her cropped pixie cut and sharp chin, as vicious as her words.  I could totally see her as one of those women that I so would love to be friends with but probably not in person, but eager to please and ready to agree with her every word.

i began to predict the familiar structure of the posts, the hyperboles and metaphors with unexpected comparisons became expected and calculable.   With each excited capitalization and exclamation point it was as if a friend was clutching anxiously at your arm before the big reveal and then...nothing. Blurry punchlines and underwhelming revelations.

It seemed inevitable. Once you become a mom, and as long as you don't want child protection services being called on you, your humor inevitably becomes vanilla (not that there's anything wrong with it).  Even the "dude I'm still edgy and like radiohead and write a metaphor about a toilet involving an oozing pimple" is oh so momish.

And then the ads.  The giant banners stretched across the top of the page, blocks of eyesores that competed with the photos themselves.  Sure they're trying to make a living out of this blog, but it began to seem like a corporate attempt at family friendly with lines here and there about poop, sex, and lack of hygiene as if to say "hey hey, I'm still the same." But you're not.

Once you're making a living off the blog, running ads on it,  doesn't the whole read or leave thing  I'll write what I want to write and do what i want to do I don't care what you think thank you very much become (kind of) null?  Like selling your soul to the devil or reality tv.

Don't take this as a sayanora though.  I'll surely be stalking/checking out what's up just as often.  Like The Office, it may be more mellow these days with most attempts at humor obviously trying too hard, I just gotta know what happens next.

The White Stripes: A kindof obituary

the twang of country I normally can't stand besides  from the lips of the old greats like johnny cash and patsy cline is made soft and bearable through the white stripes.  The screechy banjo to haunting beats that lead you from blues to country to rock and back again that alternatively or simultaneously hook and numb. The lyrics sing of a nostalgia of the hardships and culture of the midwest and appalachia, a nostalgia that I never will fully understand, nor do I particularly want to.  Compassion perhaps, but never real empathy.

The indescribable role that meg plays in the background.  Her sparse beats hesitant and naive.  There is no doubt that there are thousands of others that play percussion better than her, there are thousands that play just as badly as her.  She is seen and not heard and yet she adds a tangible hint of peculiarity to the duo.  A hint that a female, but not just any female can add.  Her awkward posture is intriguing.  A femme fatale lithe and graceful would not add the same intrigue.

Sometimes it seems like it might as well be the jack white band.  with his numerous other endeavors that are arguably more idiosyncratic.  Songs like blue veins where jack wails like a wounded cat vaguely scatting.

But it's because of Meg that they are the White Stripes. The white and red band.  Without Meg, it's just The Stripes.

I had guacamole today

Apparently at the Gym they have free platters of food at 5 pm.  Don't know if it's everyday or just Mondays.  Obviously it was pretty much healthy stuff.  Fruit, Vegetable sticks, egg salad sandwiches, tuna sandwiches.  But then I spotted the Guacamole! With nothing to dip it with.  I had to settle for some cucumber sticks.