Dear Whatever Asshole Littered In My Yard,

24 05 2012

I realize that I live right by all the bars in Echo Park. I realize that you have to park your car somewhere. I realize that as some asshole, you also had to have four, barbecue laden, styrofoam vats of Wing Stop for dinner. Being as you were probably going out to said Echo Park bars, you also had to have eight 5 Hour Energy drinks for dessert.

And you know what,
I was going to say
I didn’t “get” why
you left all that shit
in my fucking yard,
but I do.

I totally get it.

It’s because you’re a fucking asshole
& I hope with every ounce of my being
that you shit your pants last night.

Quite honestly, I don’t see how you could not shit your pants after washing down fifty Atomic Wings with shots of Taurine, followed by god knows how many Bud Lights. And I really hope it happened while you were like, grinding up on some Latina. And I hope she was disgusted by you & your shitty jeans filled with your disgusting, fat American shit, you thoughtless, selfish piece of fucking shit.

And just so you know, like, I don’t know you so this is just a polite observation but anyone that eats like you are is going to die of obesity & I don’t feel bad about it at all because anyone who orders that much Wing Stop & just throws it in some health conscious, vegetable loving, kind person– such as myself–’s yard with such cavalier, deserves to die from their terrible life choices.

Asshole Who Littered In My Yard, you may be thinking,
“Gee whiz, Miss! Those were for me & four of my bros!
We’re not going to die of obesity! That was a snack!”

But I’m here to tell you that,
statistically, if there were five of you,
eating Wing Stop out of a Corolla on the side of the road,
at least three of you are going to fucking die of obesity.

That’s not even me talking!
That’s like trustworthy institutions!
THAT IS SCIENCE & DOCTORS & HBO!

This is coming off kind of harsh.
Look, I don’t want you to die of obesity.
I just want you to shit your pants
& be nearly-suicidal-embarrassed over it.
& to please, kindly, stop littering.

Sincerely,
Marissa A. Ross


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Shorts & Stuff, Volume I

21 05 2012

Shorts & Stuff is a summer lifestyle installation brought to you by me!
These are pretty things I love in my life that you should love too.
To see all the pretty things I love daily,
visit Gallivanting & Grass.

Volume I explores some of my favorite things that have been helping me get pumped up for June & beyond– my latest favorite pair “can’t live without” shorts, light teals & lighter wine, subtle tans & surf readings.

[click through for full view]

1. Wildfox Friday Night Shorts

I got these shorts for Coachella & they’ve been impossible to take off since! The color is a perfect light, pastel aqua that goes pristinely with peaches & nudes & tans. Plus, the fringe & the pocket are to die for. I don’t know about you, but I’ve ruined about a zillion tiny men’s Levi’s trying to pull off this same look & at this point, I’m just going to leave it to the professionals.

2. Agent18 Mint Chevron Case

Have you even seen Tumblr in the last year? Everything is zig zagged & mint. So why shouldn’t your phone look just as cute? Agent 18′s cases have been saving my life for almost a year now & I absolute love this one. It matches my whole life & I get a bazillion compliments on it. Not only is it super durable, but the case is still nice & slim so you can fit in your tiny back pockets.

3. Thomas Pynchon’s Inherent Vice

I’m reading this book right now & I love it. It’s about a private investigator stoner-surfer in Gordita Beach (nom de guerre of Pynchon’s actual residence, Manhattan Beach) during the end of the sixties. I’m only about half way through it, but it involves this whole real estate scandal & a bunch of details you can gather from its many detailed summaries from various internet retailers. What I’m here to say is I love it just for the way it’s written. I get high on its obscure & outdated beach slang. I love authors that write like they talk, or rather how their characters talk since I’m pretty positive Pynchon’s other works don’t embody the voice of Inherent Vice‘s nearly burnt-out protagonist, Doc Sportello. I also die for Pynchon’s incredible grasp on the art of detail. He spares no adjectives; creating long, looping descriptions that mimic the book’s overall psychedelic & spontaneous nature.

4. Dr. Haushka Lavender Bath

Do you like painkillers? Me too. Do you have them readily available? Me neither. But fear not my friends! We have Dr. Haushka’s Lavender Bath oil. A couple drops of this in a hot tub is like eating half a 660 MG Vicodin, which we can agree is better than no Vicodin at all. And let me just say that before I got this stuff, I was not a “bath person”. In fact, I despised baths & was generally disgusted by the idea of hanging out in my own filth sans jets (because for some reason, jacuzzis on the other hand have always been widely accepted & loved in my life). But Dr. Haushka has changed my life, and for the better. Now I love getting my soak on & listening to music & trying to figure out my summer goals in a cheap notebook.

5. Hawaiian Tropic Island Radiance Tanning Créme

My motto is, summer only ends if you let it. And a very important part of staying summery, is staying even just a little bit tan. Gotta keep that color! This is my absolute favorite self-tanner. It smells awesome & I’ve never had a problem with streaking. The only problem I’m having is finding this stuff. This season my Rite Aid doesn’t have it & I’m beyond pissed.

6. Opala Vinho Verde

This wine is so delicious! It’s super light with just a hint of sparkle, perfect for sunny afternoons spent on blankets in the grass or on your couch with the AC blasting. Either way. I like it all ways actually. You can get it for $8 at Whole Foods.

7. Herschel Pop Quiz Backpack

Guhhh, I don’t have this but I want it so bad so I can tote around all the stuff I have mentioned in this post, plus a bikini & my laptop (you can never be too prepared).

8. White Fence (Tim Presley)

White Fence is capable of quenching any taste you’re thirsty for. With the finest mix of garage, punk & retro influences Tim Presley has put together what is quite possibly one of the best independent bands of our time. I’ve said this probably eight hundred times & I’m sure there are some of you who are like “Get the off this dude’s dick” but here’s the thing, as long as White Fence puts out amazing albums (which they have three of just this year alone), I’m going to be riding the fuck out of them.

9. Stila Silk Shimmer Gloss

Ah! This lip gloss is superb. I’m the kind of person who applies lip gloss every seven to ten minutes so I need something that looks pretty & won’t dry out my lips. This Stila gloss doesn’t lie– it’s mad silky. It makes my lips feel like I could make out forever, which is not really something I have the opportunity to do ever, but I like knowing that under the right set of circumstances, I could fucking kill it.

And then don’t forget…
Iced coffees, patios of all sizes, big floral pillows, cab rides, Apples to Apples, slumber parties, Cruel Intentions, pouring too much tequila & soft white sheets.

What’s been getting you excited for summer?


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A Tangent About Being A Snackaholic.

17 05 2012

Everyone I know is always
making these off-hand jokes
like, “Better watch out, Marissa!
You’re going to be an alcoholic!”

It fucking pisses me off because
sure, I drink a lot of wine but
no one is addressing the real problem!

That I may be
a Snackaholic.

Here’s the thing:
I don’t binge drink.
But I binge snack ALL THE TIME.
AND I DEFINITELY DO IT WHEN I’M SAD.
AND YET EVERYONE’S SOOOOO CONCERNED
WITH MY TOTALLY NORMAL WINE CONSUMPTION
WHEN THAT IS JUST LIKE, ME HAVING SO MUCH FUN.

Am I calling out for help? No. Fuck no. I love snacking. You can fuck yourself if you think you can tell me anything about these leftovers or this block of cheese or this trail mix that I don’t know how it ended up in my house. But whatever, fuck that guy. It’s open, it’s in my house, it’s salty. I’m going to eat it.

And that, by the way, is a very serious rule of being my friend. If you are my friend, you are basically agreeing to 87 pages of an Apple agreement you’ll never read that states that I am by law allowed to eat any of your snacks, in either of our respective homes, per the following:

1. I am allowed to eat any snack in your home that is open.
2. I am allowed to open & eat any snack in your home only if I am stoned, drunk or starving because I am not logical enough in those conditions to be polite & as my friend you have to accept that I only make terrible, selfish decisions when I am drunk/stoned/starving. I can’t help it & you love me anyway.
3. I am allowed to open & eat any snack you leave in my home cause you know I love snacks & you shouldn’t leave your snacks in my home if you don’t want them eaten!

The above rules also apply to wine, whiskey, tequila & all colored rums.
Even vermouth or brandy from Christmas on a bad day.
And vodka, any day.

UMMMMM WE’RE FRIENDS, AREN’T WE?!
OKAY THEN, STOP CALLING YOURSELF”AN ENABLER”.
THAT’S A REALLY UGLY WORD FOR “SOMEONE WHO LOVES ME A LOT”.
JUST PLEASE PASS ME THE SPICY CHEEZ-ITZ
& POUR ME A GLASS OF WHATEVER.
Love you too. ♥ ♥ ♥

[Currently Listening 2 Terri O'Mason, "Cupcakes"]


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A Tangent About Selling My Soul.

10 05 2012

I’m starting to get a little frustrated.
It really should not be this difficult
to sell my fucking soul.

I bet you thought I wasn’t the type, but I am. My soul is most definitely for sale. It has been for awhile but I guess when the economy crashed, so did the market for souls. I mean, I can barely give this shit away, which is ridiculous considering what good shape my soul is in. My soul is definitely you know, “used”, but still in great condition. I’ve spent a lot of my life working on myself; trying to be calm, caring & conscientious person. I have an OK work ethic & a pretty damn good attitude. I haven’t been worn down by the weight of the world or rubbed raw by being slammed by the dick of life. AND I’ve never broken the law in any ways that would hurt anyone! I’m not trying to scam anyone here! It’s a perfectly good fucking soul, man!

And I’d give it up for a fair price.
Hell, catch me this week or drunk anytime,
& I may even give it to you at a low, low introductory rate.

I’m also willing to talk financing.
Just no layaway cause this shit ain’t K-Mart at Christmas.
If I had to compare my soul selling to anything,
it’d be more like, Nordstrom Rack.
Reasonable prices for high quality goods
that are probably like, two seasons out of fashion.

I’m also cool with bartering.

Things I will accept in exchange for my (1) soul:
• Fame
• Fortune
• Huge fake tits so I can just go get my own fame & fortune since I won’t have a soul anymore to give a fucking shit about being a fucking piece of shit
• That billboard outside my bungalow to just fucking explode so I never have to look at Dwayne Johnson or Owen Wilson or those suckers who drink Bushmills while trying to enjoy a sunny afternoon or get in my fucking shower EVER AGAIN

Anyway, if you know of anyone who’s in the soul business,
make sure to give them the good word
on this super hot, exclusive soul tip I just gave you!


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A Tangent About My Interview With KSPC’s Ari Saperstein (alternatively, “A Tangent About How My Dad Was Right”).

3 05 2012

A couple of weeks ago, I was asked to do an interview with KSPC & I was super stoked. KSPC is the radio station for the Claremont Colleges, a bundle of prestigious private establishments in the town directly next to the one I grew up in, so despite definitely NOT attending them as a student, I definitely felt like, this was my shit. Mostly because I spent a good amount of time in Downtown Claremont at Rhino Records, giving eyes to boys over the stacks of vinyl & unsuccessfully trying to get a job.

So, I go to do this interview.
And I go do interviews like I do everything else:
with a bottle of red wine in my purse.

Look, life is like an earthquake.
You should always be prepared.

Anyway, drinking & talking is what I do best.
When I’m not being recorded.

Because apparently, when I’m recorded
I sound like a babbling bitch with a poor vocabulary.

So, here’s to you, Dad.
You were right.
You’ve always been right.

For all those times I was telling you something that really meant a lot to me
& instead of listening & responding with something constructive you’d say,
“You said ‘like’ sixteen times” & I got super pissed,
I’m just going to say I’m sorry, you were right.

If you still want to listen to me ramble about music, writing & my general shit,
you can listen to right here! ON THIS VERY BLOG!

AND you can download it on iTunes,
which you should do so people think I’m fucking important.

On that note, I am publicly announcing
my new campaign to be a better person & speak like an adult.

I’m not promising anything, but I will say I’m going to make a genuine effort to not talk like such an idiot all the time. That shit is embarrassing. Of the key adjectives I would like my name to be associated with, “smart” is the second or third one & this whole “like” every other word business does not bode well for my ideal word associations.

I also want to take this time to give a huge big thanks & virtual hug to the man himself, Ari Saperstein. I’m still so honored that he even wanted to interview me in the first place. I was– and still am!– genuinely impressed with his mad, mad radio skills. I had so much fun & he did such an excellent job making me sound like a coherent & occasionally charming person that he deserves an award from an association with credibility in the matter. LOVE YOU DUDE!


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GPOYW: LANA DEL ROSS

30 04 2012


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Wildfox House, Coachella Two Thousand & Twelve

25 04 2012

A couple weeks ago, I was fortune enough to be invited to stay with my best friends Meredith & Kim at the Wildfox House in Palm Springs for Coachella. I almost peed my pants when it turned out to be one of the original Alexander Homes, complete with a butterfly roof line. No one else cared, I’m fine with it. We didn’t see any live music, but we did drink from noon until 5am, partied our little butts off around pools, rolled around in pristine lawns, had the best slumber parties & quoted Seinfeld in quiet moments.

It was one of those weekends
that made me feel like the luckiest girl in the universe.

Despite my personality being on point while drunk,
my manual focus is still getting used to the lifestyle.

Here are some of the pictures that survived.

Palm Springs, April Two Thousand & Twelve
Wildfox House with my best friends

All photos were taken by me on a late seventies’ Canon AE-1. Feel free to share, just please credit. Visit the set on Flickr here.


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My Hypothetical Speed Dating Situation (Or, Why I Should Avoid Being Single Ever Again).

25 04 2012

“So, where are you from?”

“So, do you like burritos?”

“So, do you like pizza?”

“So, do you like sweatpants?”

“Do you like Law & Order: SVU? Do you like watching nine hours of it in a row on a perfectly sunny Saturday afternoon?”

“How do you feel about hanging out mostly naked on the couch with me while I image search ‘thermal water’, ‘glacier runoff’ & ‘vintage pool pornography’ for a couple hours?… God no, the porn is not for us, it’s for my personal time. [mumbles] Weirdo…”

“What kind of work do you do? Any editing? I like my sexual partners to proof read my Tweets before I send them.”

“Do you have any pets?… Oh, good, because my dog needs to be the center of your universe. Well, I mean, I’LL need to be the center of your universe– and that still won’t be enough but whatever– anyway, my dog needs to be like, your moon… No, I promise, he makes it really easy because he is so cute & sleeps so much. You just have to walk him for me like eight times a week, no biggie.”

“How traditional are you? I really like my men to open doors & pay for all eight of my rounds. But then like, be cool with me listening to Destiny’s Child’s ‘Independent Women Part One’ every morning before work.”

“Do you have any substance abuse problems? Because I can’t date someone who is too much like me, you know?”

“How do you feel about like, medium to possibly, POSSIBLY, Sambal Oelek hot erotic asphyxiation? I just really need someone who will choke me out & lovingly tell me I’m a dumb whore if I do something like, scratch off one of your moles… I know, I’m being really specific here but hey, we only have five minutes to find true love, guy.”

“Do you like what I’m wearing?… No, I’m not going to the fucking beach after this, ugh, I can’t date anyone who won’t let me spend 95% of my time with my ass hanging out of my shorts. Sorry. Like, that’s just a life decision I made a long time ago & I refuse to change for anyone… Anyone meaning everyone except like heterosexual George Clooney, or perhaps James Franco’s little brother. Maybe Drake. IDK I feel like his suits would make me want to class it up… Whatever, you’re not Drake so those circumstances don’t apply to you, now do they? As far as you’re concerned, I’m going to be wearing this crop top & these bright red coochie cutters until I die.”

“I’M NOT A SLUT! I HAVE CUT-OFFS & OPINIONS!”

“UH YEAH, BEING CALLED A DUMB WHORE IN BED IS DIFFERENT THAN BEING CALLED A SLUT AT SPEED DATING, IT’S ALL ABOUT INFLECTION!”

“WHATEVER! I DIDN’T LIKE YOU ANYWAY, SHIA LABARF!”


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A Tangent About Being A Writer.

10 04 2012

Last night over a seven course meal at the Beverly Wilshire with Hello Giggles & Angelino magazine, we got on the subject of writing as a career. Molly “Queen” McAleer & I started talking about how many people email us asking about whether or not they should be a writer. I said probably one of the most important things I’ve ever said, so I’m going to share it with you here.

If you have to ask someone
if you should be a writer,
you shouldn’t be a writer.

If sheer passion isn’t propelling you to be a writer on your own, don’t do it. Just don’t. I’m sorry but save yourself. Everyone is going to shit on you & you’re going to be broke for the rest of your life. Everyone you are close to will want to kill you at some point & you’ll be lucky if you ever see your family again. Writing is not something that you just “be”, it’s something that you are, something you have to do, that you cannot stop. You can’t stop when no one reads it, when people maliciously criticize you, when your ex tells you you’re taking women’s rights back three generations, when you are turned down for three straight years. You just can’t stop. It doesn’t matter that no one believes in you & you have $45 to last you ten days. You just keep going because you have no other choice.

And maybe, just maybe, one day,
you’re lucky enough to have someone
want to rub diamonds on your arms.

Yes, I had diamonds rubbed on my arms last night.

But today, I’m back to having $81,
slaving away on shit no one pays me for,
crossing my fingers that one day it goes somewhere,
hoping that I’m doing something worthwhile
& that people realize I’m actually quite smart
& not just a dumb girl with a superficial blog.

And that’s it.
That is my existence.
And there is no question
that this is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.


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Shit I’d Marry: Gorilla vs. Bear Swag

2 04 2012

Last week I got the best surprise!
A dope ass tee from one of my favorite blogs EVER,
GORILLA VS. BEAR!

For those of you have been living in dressing rooms of Kohl’s or something for the past five or so years, Gorilla vs. Bear is probably the most influential music blog of all time. Yes, there is Pitchfork but that’s a website & this is a blog, one dude’s personal opinion that ended up shaping & spawning a whole community of music blogs. I can honestly thank Chris Cantalini personally for introducing me to much of my favorite music, particularly between 2009-2011, when beachy pop & chill wave ruled the universe & I was in heaven.

And the best part of it is, Chris is not a pretentious dipshit.
He’s a really nice, cool dude who loves music & basketball.
I’m truly honored he thought of me & that I get to rep this hard.

Very excited to add this staple to my Spring style. It’s one of those amazing American Apparel track shirts so you know it’s super soft & the retro inspired graphic is top notch. I’m wearing a small & it fits perfect. #STOKED

Grab your own & show your love for music & animal fights at GVB’s store!


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A Tangent About Dudefriend’s Unemployment Messing Up My Routine.

26 03 2012

To start the last year of the world off right,
Dudefriend left his job.

This is fine. I totally supported this. Being a marketing executive was not only stressful, but boring. Just totally time consuming with stressful, boring responsibilities. It’s one thing to be stressed about creative things you enjoy, but an entirely other thing to be stifling yourself in a nine to five when you could be doing so much more because you’re a super talented & handsome bro like Dudefriend.

But Dudefriend really needs to get a freaking job.
This is not because he’s broke or can’t pay bills,
and it’s not because I don’t love seeing him when I get home,
but because he is totally fucking with my daily routine.

See, every morning he would go to work all early
& I would start in on my routine:
Caffeine.
Work out.
Shower.
Blow dry.
Dance in my underwear.
Masturbate.
Get dressed.
Do my makeup.
Leave.

Most of my routine has not been disrupted by Dudefriend being home all the time, except the two most important parts! Dancing & masturbating!

Now, I know what you’re thinking, that the masturbating shouldn’t be an issue since now Dudefriend is around to sex me up all the time but that’s not it. The masturbating has nothing to do with sex. See, if I could get what I get from jerking off from a dude, I would. I would get it from Dudefriend. But it’s not the same because I don’t like, fantasize about me & Jon Hamm (OK, fine, sometimes). I fantasize about me & my imaginary career. I fantasize about me on the red carpet, about me in black & white topless photos in French Vogue and I fantasize about me on yachts & shit. That is what gets me off. I would think that I’m an INSANE person but I know a lot of other people who do this shit too (although, they’re all actresses, so maybe I am insane).

And the dancing in my underwear, well I don’t think I have to explain why I don’t do that in front of Dudefriend… because it would be fucking embarrassing.
And I would never live it down for the rest of my life.

He sees me practicing to pop my ass & he laughs his face off & I play it off like I’m just kidding around BUT I’M NOT. I REALLY WANT TO BE ABLE TO POP MY ASS & I’M NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO POP MY ASS IF HE DOESN’T GET HIS ASS BACK TO WORK.

I know, I know.
Ass popping & banging myself.
Seems silly, right?
WELL, IT’S FUCKING NOT.

Because it’s part of my routine! The routine that makes me feel good! Kinda like how I shave my legs every day no matter what, not for a dude, but because shaving my legs every day makes me feel good about me! (And of course, because you never know when you’re going to be in a bikini.)

You think I just wake up being able to delude myself into believing I’m going to be a fucking baller who valets her Mercedes at the mall?! You think I can just naturally do that, sober?! I CAN’T, OKAY? I CAN’T! IT’S A PROCESS!
IT’S A MINDSET! A MINDSET THAT TAKES SO MUCH
UNDERWEAR DANCING & JERKING OFF!

Success is an attitude, guys.

And if you can’t get into the ‘tude,
what do you have?

Whiskey.
That’s what you have.

[Currently Listening 2 new Beach House]


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A Tangent About Pretty Penny Stock.

19 03 2012

Remember that time
I was my friend Megan’s Show & Tell for POP Breakfast?
And I wanted to make out with everyone there
& everything they make & their office structure?
BECAUSE IT WAS ALL SO WELL DESIGNED & MAGICAL?!

Well, I remember that.
And the only thing more awesome than that
was last Thursday’s launch for Pretty Penny Stock,
which I attended via a gracious invite from POP Studio.

Pretty Penny Stock is the new lady line from the incredible brand Penny Stock. All the collections (men, women & kids!) are absolutely irresistible with nautical influence, featuring breezy yet silhouetted shapes & light-weight textiles that totally scream for summer. Honestly, with all the Sofia Rosé I was clobbering, POP was lucky I didn’t abscond off with the whole lot of it. I thought about. I think I thought about it maybe even two or twenty times but instead, I preoccupied myself with more Rosé, bugging John Moore & hogging the photobooth.

Not only was I lucky enough to talk Slim Aarons with Moore & the POP gang, but I also ran into my pals Grasie Mercedes & Mr. Kate and of course, flipped a lot of shit off with my BFF Meredith. It was one of the best events I’ve ever gone to.

I can’t wait for POP to host another party or a gallery opening
or maybe just an office meeting I can crash or something.

That last photo booth picture reminds me of what should be a movie poster for like, some American Pie movie or something. I picked the photo that best showcased me as what would be like the Jennifer Love-Hewitt character although we all know that IRL, I was the “crazy blogger girl”.

No, really, that’s how I was greeted at this party.
“Hey, you’re the crazy blogger girl!” – John Moore

I’ll take it.

[Currently Listening 2 TOPS]


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A Tangent About Old White Dudes Fucking With Vaginas.

17 03 2012

I don’t like to get political on the internet.
But all the recent “developments” in women’s health are infuriating.

This week I read about this new law in Virginia where women who want to get an abortion have to have an ultrasound, but it’s not a normal “Oh, let’s rub some jelly on you & move this wand on your belly” sort of ultrasound. It’s an invasive probe they are going to stick inside you because the fetus is too small for a regular ultrasound. This isn’t verbatim but basically the bro in charge of this law said this is to make women understand exactly what they’re doing. And if you don’t look at the ultrasound or listen, they put that in your medical file, probably to use against you at some unknown point in the future when some asshole decides women’s health needs to be a part of the Patriot Act or something.

I read all about this on Gawker,
but I just Googled it & can’t find the link
so just go on your own Google spree
& don’t waste my time doing research for you.

Anyway, the point is, this got me thinking.
And I have a very serious question to ask:
Don’t old white dudes have enough shit
to pretend they know everything about
without fucking with vaginas?

I feel that old white dudes making decisions about vaginas
is akin to taking me to NASA & letting me decide
how to run maintenance on a fucking space ship.
I know nothing about space ships, fuck, I barely know math.

Old white dudes know nothing about vaginas, fuck,
they barely know how to properly stick their dicks in them half the time.

Aren’t they busy pretending to know how to fix the economy & shit? Where do they even find the time to fuck with our health & bodies when there’s an unemployment rate to deal with? I’m just like, hey, you know, you have so much shit to be arrogant about. Can’t you leave the vaginas to people who actually have them & have to deal with them? Can’t you just admit you have no comprehension of the responsibilities of a vagina & let someone who does get it make important decisions? I just feel you’re getting stingy here. You get to act like you know everything about every country in the world & that you know what’s best for everyone, despite your small, sheltered, upper-middle class life.

Well, you know what?
You don’t, old white dude.
You don’t know what’s best for my vagina.
You don’t know what’s best for gay people.
You don’t know what’s best for ANYONE,
BUT YOU.


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In Response To The Response About My Official Pants.

12 03 2012

Here were the two main responses:
1. “You must be getting paid!”
2. “I need those! Where did you get them?!”

To anyone who said either of those things,
you’re either fucking crazy or damn near retarded.

First of all, I do not get paid for anything, really,
and if I did, I would have to disclose it.

And secondly, bitches, what didn’t you get
about those pants being my official pants?!


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A Tangent About My Official Pants.

7 03 2012

Just wanted to let you know that I have found the pants I am going to wear for the rest of my life. So please don’t worry about me if you see me in these pants like, every day. I’m not going insane or homeless or anything. This is a personal choice I’m making, a la Doug Funnie, to have sort of a uniform when I’m not in a bikini. I have never really felt this way about a pair of pants before, like I’m in love, but I’ve just never felt better than I do in these pants. They are everything I’ve ever wanted in a pair of pants: tropical, my favorite colors (mint teal, teal, green, mint, black), one size too big & perfect ankle length.

This is me saying, “Hey, I found my pants. I don’t know what you want from me.”

Usually I do not wear any one piece of clothing out in public, like more than three times because I am a nut case with a shit ton of clothes but these, they are just too quintessential to my lifestyle. I just can’t even imagine myself not wearing them all the time. I DON’T WANT TO EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. I hope everyone wants to have sex with me IN THESE PANTS. FOR FOREVER. IF I DIE, I WANT TO BE CREMATED IN THESE PANTS. DO YOU HEAR ME, FUTURE BRO WITH POWER OF ATTORNEY OVER MY DEAD BODY OR WHATEVER? I WANT TO BE WITH THESE PANTS FOR ALL OF MY DUSTY ETERNITY.

Sorry for every girl who wanted to buy these, but here’s the thing:

THESE ARE THE ONLY FUCKS I GIVE!

Look, it sucks not everyone has an internet platform read by bajillions of people & aliens & princesses around the universe such as myself to claim an article of clothing from a totally accessible store at the mall as their own. But that is not my fault. Some of us are born with blogs & enough unwarranted arrogance to try to say a pair of pants are their official pants. I was also born white with perfect bangs, can’t do anything about either of those things either so yeah, I’m sorry, despite being totally not sorry.

If you have an official article of clothing you never want me to wear in return, please let me know because that is fair (unless I already own it, in which case, sucks to be you again cause there’s probably already a picture of me on Instagram in it with somewhere between eleven and a trillion likes).

[Currently Listening 2 The Breezes via my post on Weekly Tape Deck, go read it, it has cool ideas.]


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Categories : GPOYW, Tangents & The Times

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