so we moved into an old brick apartment above an italian restaurant. the building is from the 1800's. the original tin tiles are still in the ceiling which i think is really cool. in certain places the tiles change to random patterns and i wonder if the Olde Tyme Store ran out of the correct tiles or if there was a leak and the tiles had to be replaced or what happened and i always wonder who put them up and what this person looked like and why they chose the tiles they did and who lived (and died?) in here in the past 200 years. bring on the ghosts. seriously, how could this place NOT be haunted? so far no ghost activity except a soft thumping that happens on the door once in a while that freaks out the doberman. potential ghost activity i guess.

someone really needs to invent these two things, pronto: one, a dishwasher that actually washes dishes instead of just half assedly sloshing the food around on them and calling it a day, and two, a fucking painkiller i can take for my back that doesn't give me the mother of all painkiller hangovers with symptoms including but not limited to Monster Headache and shaky nauseau.

and now, for your viewing pleasure, the entire contents of my shitty blackberry phone media card. in no particular order. (i KNOW, how AWEsome.)

soho hates sarah palin

www.aciesmine.com


i'm bringing back the 70's pantsuit/jumper one boogie night at a time.


didn't buy the dress, a little too hot chicks with douchbags for my taste...

i actually wore shorts one time...

mom dukes

happy birthday to me, patron shot #6 please

this shoe owns my soul

thanks mom


sen dogg. if you are reading this, get a fucking facebook account immediately for the love of all things good and holy.

dowling manor

san francisco spiders do NOT fuck around. Note missing leg probably lost in spider battle.

Pop dukes. he doesn't fuck around either.

i wanted to write a funny, interesting, probably kind of manic and definitely run-on sentence filled post about how much i fucking love DC, including but not limited to paragraphs regarding my heroic intake of patron, sipping spiced rum and cider in the jacuzzi, downing xanax and lorazepam to combat the following hangover anxiety demons, making out with friends, reconnecting with friends, remembering that i have the best friends in the world, and the fact that i got the fucking sickest pair of L.A.M.B. heels at Saks. ( i was going to try to describe the shoes but realized that would be impossible. Can you describe the face of an angel? Can you describe the caress of a pegasus' wings against a rainbow? there are no words good enough for the hotness that is these shoes. so instead i took a crappy picture on my blackberry.)

even in this grainy blackberry photo you can tell that these shoes are clearly the ruler of the world.

now i'm back at home. in reality. opened the pile of bills on my desk, had lunch with the business partner, took the dogs out, listened to the best fucking drum and bass album ever produced while thinking about the old days doing key bumps on my way to FIVE, and listlesly unpacked almost six of the 3,984,579,238,475 things in my suitcase before i completely gave in to my restlessness and said fuck it. why am i living so far from the people i love and am energized by? for my career? for the potential of a solid financial future? shouldn't i care more about being happy and surrounded by fam on the daily instead? why am i not buying a townhouse in the Mission, living in San Francisco and making my dreams a reality? why am i not moving to DC like, tomorrow, and again, living my life like each day is all i have?

and seriously, what the FUCK am i doing in New Jersey?

olive ewe

all the old school homegirls and i at a wedding.

i made us all shirts with an olive and a ewe (get it? olive ewe? like, i love you?)

a few years ago i was working with a client who wanted to do cute sayings on baby clothes (she basically just wrote down every cute saying she saw on a fucking onesie while she traveled around the world with her rich husband and then wanted me to knock them all off for her). one of the sayings she wanted to do was a picture of an olive and a picture of a juice box - "olive juice", which to me just sounds like "I love Jews", which is fine, but doesn't have quite the same ring to it as "I Love You"... Anyway, i decided to switch it and do the Olive Ewe instead, you know, just for clarity. so i turned the project in with an adorable olive and a cute cartoon-y ewe, and she took one look at it and said "i just don't think people will get it...actually, i don't really get it...why is "Olive Sheep" cute?"

i was like, uh, it's a ewe...a female sheep...olive ewe...?

She said she'd never heard of a ewe and said she was pretty sure that most people in america had never heard of this "ewe".

ugh.

shit has been rough

i'm not going to lie, shit is not sweet right now. almost got evicted, almost signed a $360,000 client, almost let some negativity get in the way of my positive vibe, didn't get paid for almost 2 months, almost about to lose my mind. i've never been one of those people to "do the smart thing" and put my dreams on hold. i'm not really down with "it makes sense financially" and "we'll just do this for now". There isn't anything BUT now, and somehow, i feel like my life is passing me by while i try to figure out how to accomplish what i know i can do if i would just DO it already.


2009 will be all about removing the bullshit and the non-contributing "friends" who i haven't been able to break up with but make me feel empty and uninspired. i have so many amazing, creative, intelligent, honest friends who have my back and are really family. so i'm going to focus on those and foget the rest. not in a negative way, just a way that tells the universe i'm going to only allow and cultivate positivity.

and luam is the fucking illest.