self-h8ting hipster

for the time being

2006-12-21T21:13:00.000-05:00

read this: http://thisplaceisdeadanyway.blogspot.com/2006/12/lethal-christmas-party-punch-before-40.html

Does anyone read this anymore?

2006-12-18T22:24:00.000-05:00

For those of you who have been sick with worry, alas, I am still alive. I've holed myself up in the studio working for the last three months and have surfaced to find that much has changed (Let's all hope that Britney starts shelling out some cash for PANTIES).
Anyway I digress...I shall try to keep up with the updates next semester and muster up a decent post in the coming weeks. Perhaps a new leaf shall be turned for this h8ter.
Until then, um...wait.

What have you done for me lately?

2006-09-01T20:00:00.000-04:00

I have struggled with cell phones for years...with few victories. I once had a cell phone that my father paid for; but with him holding that ancient phone over my head (that I could only use outdoors for three days a week) I went on to bigger and better things at the ripe age of 17. Thanks to Mom, I had the credit to get my own. Good 'ol AT&T. I bought it at a very ghetto place on St. Marks, who rather than actually canceling my old one, just set up the new account. So for a long time I got two bills. I filed many offical complaints and about 6 bills later they finally severed my account. They could not reimburse me for those bills, but they wouldn't charge me for the cancelation. Um...thanks.
After being notified that I was absorbed by Cingular (just as Bank of America absorbed my Fleet account), I recieved a VERY high bill. I yelled at them for about 15 mins until they finally agreed not to lower my bill, but give me 600ish extra minutes per month, no extra charge! (This is when my luck turned around.) In combination with unlimited nights and weekend, 12 months later I have more than 7000 rollover minutes. Hell yes.

Now for my current issue. Last week I went to inquire about replacing my phone at the Cingular store. They informed me that as of September 4th I will have had my phone for 18 months and that I would be eligible for an upgrade! Quite karmicly, about 6 days later my phone broke...in half. However, due to Labor Day, I might not be able to get it until Tuesday. (photo soon to be added below)

I think that one may have been a draw (well played, Cingular).

I'm finding myself ever aware of how much I need my cell phone. It's been completely unusable for about 7 hours and already I feel alone, helpless, and very very bored.
It made me think of the early Seinfeld episodes where Elaine, Jerry, and occationally kramer would be forced to use payphones. Now I am one of those people. Actually that's not true, I borrow a friend's...but still!

On the con side of things, as a result of cell phones most social groups no longer have "regular hangouts." There's nowhere in the city I can think of going to that has a remotely likely chance of me running into someone I want to see (the high traffic spots are risky to hang around, for fear of the exes and idiots). I'm not sure if that's comforting or depressing. (Are we becoming more isolated or more connected in this techinical age?)

Meanwhile, I have been informed of a new beer made from green tea, that had antioxidents.
Um, I'm sorry, did you little hipsters not realize that beer wasn't a health food? That is the natural state of alcohol, generally not health improving. How much of a wimp can you be? For christs sake, what's next? "All new improved cocaine with tea tree powder (to help sooth those irrtated sinuses)?"

I also just picked up my bike, that was shipped from Colorado. I'm pretty nervous about riding it in the city, but hope to get over that after a couple weeks of commuting. Because you know what? FUCK the fucking L train. I can't imagine I'm alone on this one...

Also: two New Party Clubs in October. I will be performing at at least one. More deatails to come on that.

Neurontin/Effexor XR/Trazadone/Klonopin/Celexa/Zyprexa/Depacote(sp?)/Atavan/Aderol Nation?

2006-08-26T15:41:00.000-04:00

A conversation with JD today reminded me of my occasionally forgotten dream to turn my "life that is the work of bad fiction" into a cheesy memoir. My target audience, naturally, would be those between the ages of 14 and 19. It wouldn't be intentionally cheesy, but it seems that my kind of story is a common sort for these things.
The question is, at what age/point in life can you write a memoir? It's not like you can write a part 2 when things get more interesting. Or can you? And how full of myself am I for asking?
Does anyone care about this?

Alright, enough of this self indulgence...
Who's psyched about fucking Lou Reed performing Berlin!!! Holy shit, that album is pure genius. Somehow I have yet to see Lou Reed, and I mean "let's face it, (he)should be dead." But now...now I have my chance...for $65. Hm...

Um...what else, what...else... The truth is I don't have much to say at the moment. I'm just really, really bored at work. I'm sure some of you can relate. In fact I would imagine some of you are very bored...right...now. And you're thinking to yourself, "is this all this bitch has got? Cuz you gotta do better than that if you want to stay on my bored at work favorite blogs." Well I'm sorry to disappoint, but I...don't care.
L8r.

A look of space and total life; ready...or...not.

2006-08-21T16:47:00.000-04:00

My faithful readers. The end of summer is slowly drawing near, and I'm starting to get mighty nostalgic. So many great shows, a southern road trip, hiatus in NH, a couple trips, yoga in the park, beautiful days, a new apartment...the list goes on.
But speaking of apartments, I'd like to offer you an official update. My roommate Ms. Gold had finally moved in a startling 6 weeks after our lease began. Although she's, um, not here for another couple days. I've been thrilled to find that my plants are lovin' the light here, and the location (yes, ye olde Bedforde Avenue) is tremendously convenient. There have been a couple unpleasant snags such as the evidence of mice and the prehistoric sized cockroach (see below), but all and all it's been great.

There's a creepy mystery space outside my bathroom window. There is no sky above the airshaft, it's just an empty hole in the building.

(looking down)

(looking up)

Eerie isn't it? Very Silence of the Lambs.

Hey, does anyone know a killer brunch place near Bedford Avenue? It must be relatively cheap (under 15 for bfast coffee and tip), lots of food, and good. Lemme know about that...

Mark your calenders, the end of summer wrap-up is coming soon!

"I'm gonna go onstage, I'm gonna vomit, then light it on fire, and then I'm gonna eat it."

2006-08-15T22:26:00.000-04:00

It is very rare that I pay $200ish to see a band at a big festival, and am so blown away by the the ferocity of the performance that I shell out another $35 to see them again a mere two months later. I guess technically there's just one that fits those specific qualifications, and that band is Sonic Youth.
With their help, I experienced a second rock'n'roll fantasy weekend. Yeah yeah Yeahs, Beirut, Deerhoof, Apollo sunshine, Sonic Youth, and a killer jazz band whose named still remains a mystery. I'm gonna skip the play-by-play breakdown (you can get your kicks from Max), but all involved pretty much blew my mind. AND to top that, yesterday we went to the beach!

But moving on, I feel there a few urgent issues I must address:
First I would like to make a statement to a certain group of men who are trapsing around New York wearing these little vintage runing shorts. What makes you think that those things look cool? Unless you're playing high school basketball in the 1970s you have NO BUSINESS wearing them. No one wants to see your white, spindly, hairy legs in their full glory within bright orange "practically hotpants," and more importantly I don't. Plus a lot of these tools aren't sporting what's necessary to insure full coverage of the uh, bathing suit area. "They're out; and there's nothing between them and us but a thin layer of cheap nylon."

Secondly I would like to add a second reason why I h8t the alias "The Man in the Brown Hat." Does anyone remember Reservoir Dogs? (I choose to assume that no one who reads this blog hasn't seen it.) There's this scene where Tarantino expressed discomfort with his code name "Mr. Brown." The reason, of course, is that calling him "Mr Brown" is basically calling him "Mr. Shit." Now then, why would you want to be The Man in the Shit Hat?
Hm?
Score:
MBH- 0
SH8H- 1

PS: I promise I'm going to post more soon. Really this time...

There are haters, you know.

2006-07-26T12:11:00.000-04:00

It has come to my attention that there is a certain column in the Onion called "The Hater" written by Amelie Gillette, it is exactly what it seems in that it is a column detailing her hatred of this and that, pop culture, etc. I would like to take this opportunity to say that as far as I can tell from the archives (though I saw her column in the print version), my blog was born months before her column. Now, is it a little paranoid to think that she lifted her name from my very own blog, despite the fact that "hater" is a fairly common term used by many writers and hipsters alike? Probably, but my reason for writing this is not because I mean to accuse her of stealing my ideas for her own column (cough, yeti, cough cough), but because I am anticipating someone asking me if I got the idea for my blog based on her column, and then wanting to punch said person in the face.

That being said, there are a few unsettling similarities. First, the "intro to the column" column. She begins by detailing why she writes the column, making her confidence in her opinion known/making her superiority clear. She then lists things one might come to expect from "The Hater" in the future. Does this sound familiar yet? I'm just saying...

Also, what's up with her "Fuck snakes on a plane" thing? SamLJ can do no wrong in my eyes, and as far as I'm concerned, basically shits gold. Besides, what would possess you to diss a badass like SLJ anyway? You know, sometimes it's not about the quality of the film, but the spirit of the project. No? Well, I would be careful who you talk to about that... For the record, I would watch a movie just to see SLJ say "motherfucker every five seconds." ALSO, there are numbers on those scrabble letters on her column header, and what do the numbers on the h's add up to? 8!!!!!
Additionally, I DO get paid largish sums of money to watch things like "So you think you can dance." And I'm not ashamed...exactly. As Fists often says "You are not able to say things like 'you couldn't pay me to watch Extreme Makeover: Home Edition', because you are!"
All kidding aside, I like this little column. I respect the spirit of so no hard feelings AG, I'm just looking out for my best interest. (All I want is what's coming to me, all i want is my fair share! Just send 10s and 20s...)
So, there's that.
Also it has come to my attention that Rebecca Schumann of "Nothing to see here" in the The L Magazine used to work at my job up until a month ago, AND that one of my favorite people at work knows her. Those who know about me and my undying support of the L magazine can imagine my excitement.
***
And now....about this new Sufjan album. I love Sufjan, you all know that...but I have very mixed feelings about this. I wouldn't say that I don't like it, and it may still grow on me, but at this point it sounds like what it says; which is to say that these songs didn't make the cut, but they played a few here and there on the tour. There are a few that I really like; in the case of sufjan I've always loved his albums from the start, and there was never a question. but this? I feel I'm already giving a huge benefit of the doubt, actually trying very hard to like it because I crave more (MORE!!!!). The jury's still out. More up[dates to come. Sorry SS, but don't fret. I'm still coming to your show and I still love you, even though you don't love me (yet).

One more quick note: I am writing this from a Williamsburg coffee shop/wireless internet oasis. There are eight people on their laptop including myself. Three Mac iBook G4s, four Mac Powerbook G4s, and one lonely Dell. Oh Dell, so young to be out to pasture...it warms my heart. Oh, shit, two lonely Dells. Well Dell, I see you've fooled me again. What are you, fucking Skeletor? (Delletor?)

Girl, you know it's true.

2006-07-21T14:28:00.000-04:00

I h8te midtown. With a fiery passion that burns for eight days and eight nights even when there is only fuel for one (oh wait...um, that's not right.) I got to bask in the pretentious wankery that is midtown Tuesday night while taking in the Cool 'eh "pool" party with Katy and John (because they could not secure a permit for throng of drunken partiers to around it, the pool was actually closed). This hotel party was relatively hip; the bar's interior was sleek and sterile (pictures forthcoming), the drinks were probably overpriced (not that I would know, because I was all over that "open bar," and said promotional liquor was cheap but mildly satisfactory. They made this "Cabana" with the Cabana Cachaca Rum, which was like the cheap Elvis impersonater of mojitos. The mint was NOT muddled, they skimped on the lime and sugar, and some of the versions involved sprite. They just took some limes, mint, ice and soda and shook it. fuck that. In related news, I have decided that when new roomie Collyn moves in, we're gonna buy some liquor and should have a swingin' mixer at the end of the summer(?).

So besides getting drunk off the cheap rum, the pool party was kind of a bust, besides giving me more things to feel superior about. On the way home we had a magical experience with a butterfly caught in the subway entrance and followed that up with a belated Pomme Frite underwear party.

Wednesday morning was all about Mud, the NY Times crossword, and yoga in the park. So good. That brings me back to Tuesday day; I got my yoga on in the park for almost three hours, being joined by Matt midsession. We then proceed to run through the sprinklers in the playground, get some chow at Earthmatters, and walked back to Chelsea before I bought myself a Lily (a live lily plant that is).

So fast forward to Wednesday's lovely and relaxing morning in the park; there were birds, green grass, falafel sandwiches, and some casual conversation for good measure. I then went home to pick up for some animation work I'm doing for an indie film. While waiting for him, a pigeon shit on my foot, which was possibly one of the most disgusting experiences of my life. I'm terrified I'm gonna get bird flu or something. I ran upstairs to wash off my foot and now I'm just trying not to think about it.

THEN of course, Wednesday was also my SH8H ex-wife's birthday (Yes, we have divorced, but like Sonny and Cher we remain close. Although hopefully Leslie wont get drunk and crash into a tree; but I mean that should be fairly easy to avoid...in New York...in the summer...without skis...)! First we went to dinner at Three of Cups where we were later joined by a fellow "hasbian" Misha. After enjoying some good food, wine, and Bristol Cream Sherry we embarked on a tour of the Eville. First stop: Rue B. Got to catch up with the bartender Rob, who I hadn't seen in some time. Upon saying goodbye he informed me that he noticed I was wearing nearly the same outfit as I was the first time I met him. Good memory. THEN we went to a bar (it was probably on Ave B, but I'm not sure of the name) with a photobooth, which was such a thrill since I have a photostrip and polaroid collection that I feel very strongly about. I took three strips (SH8H ex-wide took one), which I will post when I scan them next week. On a similar note, I intend on purchasing 10ish packs of Polaroid film this weekend with some of this unexpected "extra money." Can't believe they're discontinuing polaroids...booooo!
NEways...I got home real late, and woke again to go do some yoga on the pier. Went to work, blah blah blah.

There were a couple outstanding "Overheard in New York" moments. I will try to relate this particular one as best as I can...though it is best told in person.
I'm sitting on the F train, and there's a mother with her beautiful two-year-old daughter in her lap, and 6 year-old son in the seat next to her. Both children have shaved heads, and the mother has a despondent look.
Suddenly the little boy blurts this out very loudly with not a moments pause between words, and interspersed with maniacal laughter:
"HEY-MOM-I-JUST-CAME-UP-WITH-A-COOL-NEW-WORD-BANANAPANTS!!!!HAHAHAHAHAHAHABANANAPANTS!!HAHAHAHAHA-BANANAMOM!!!!!" and points at the mom.
The mother has no reaction at all and just stares straight forward into space, and the little boy looks away from her and stops yelling. awww.
The second was less creative, and perhaps only funny after a few glasses of sherry. On the way to Rue B, Leslie, Misha and I passed a hobo singing at the top of his lungs, "OOOOOOOH SAY CAN YOU SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, THEEEEE BEAUTY IN THE BEEEEEEEEEAST!!!" it continued, but I can't remember. Maybe you had to be there...

You can expect some photos ear;e next week, along with a weekend synopsis. Thanks all.

For all you kids that hate to read, today you will be rewarded!

2006-07-17T13:09:00.000-04:00

Fireflies are also called Lightning Bugs. Named as they are nocturnal luminous insects of the
beetle family Lampyridae, consisting of about 1,900 species that inhabit tropical and temperate regions. The common glow worm is a member of this family. Most of the fireflies feed on pollen and nectar but for adult fireflies they do not eat.

The female fireflies will produce a short rhythmic flashes that attracts the males fireflies. The females will sit on the ground in the high grass to flash to certain male only. The female chooses the males based on their flash pattern.

However, others feel that the flashing is not to attract the opposites but as a mechanism of
warning to advise predators of the fireflies bitter taste. Unfortunately, some frogs like to eat them.

Firefly light is produced under a nervous control within special cells which are richly supplied with air tubes. Only the light from the visible spectrum is emitted.

Fireflies do not bite, do not have pincers, do not carry disease and in fact are quite harmless. They cannot even fly fast. They have a life span of two months. (from thaibugs.com)

I've never seen fireflies in the city before, but last night while taking a "shake shack break," i saw hundreds on madison square park. I found this sight breathtaking. Try to ignore Matt and I talking with this Australian dude...

But that's not all! I present to you:

TANGENTAL SUMMER RECAP PART 1: A STORY IN PICTURES!

post pilgrimage post (not proofread)

2006-07-15T21:10:00.000-04:00

I'm sure many of you have forgotten about me by now...but I'm still here. I've moved to South 4th St, I own an exponentially growing number of plants (or I will anyway), and after spending an extended period of time in the woods in NH last week I've fallen knee deep in self analysis. Perhaps to some this doesn't seem like a good reason not to blog, but let's face it...you don't REALLY want to read all about what I think about myself and my life- not in a serious way. Or if you do it's probably because you're a good friend, and in that case you already know. Anyways the point is, I'm back and I'll try not to abandon you again to go on some "hippies makin' macrame hammock chairs in the woods journey of self awareness" thing for a while.

Anyways... Since we last cyberinteracted I went to the beach and got pounded into submission by the surf, saw Belle and Sebastian, visited with my mum, unpacked most of my apartment, went to NH to embrace my womanhood, acquired 26 bug bites (including a couple on my bottom), got a haircut, bought tickets to see sufjan stevens, and drank about 50 cups of coffee.

Since returning I've been really out of it. I'm trying to remember some witty anecdotes to relate about all those funny hipsters I get to observe in their natural habitat, but to no avail. I am, however, a member of a theoretical Charlie's Angels spoof at my place of employment. I really can't divulge further, but the point is I'd look really hot with Farrah Fawsett hair. Obviously.

I went to Spuytin Duyvil last night with my partner in crime, and enjoyed some great wine and cheese. I hadn't been there since I went in 2003 and now that I live in walking distance I plan to visit more often. I feel like it's more of a winter bar, but it was very enjoyable none the less. We also discovered the "South 1st street Jungle". After waking in the morning as a result of some hooligans horsin' aroun' on the street, I have today decided that I WILL determine what is so appealing about the bodega on the northwest corner of Bedford and S 4th. I think perhaps I may need to rig up a disguise and try to eavesdrop on the "shit shooting" from behind a nearby mailbox. OR I'm gonna throw water balloons off the roof.

Either way, one thing is now clear: I've lost the ability to post a blog with "flow" and in my attempts to win back the hearts and minds of the "in'ernets" I have perhaps only succeeded in making you all question how it is that I write for a living. Perhaps the answer will come to me in a dream...

so long!

2006-06-26T18:15:00.000-04:00

I know it's been a long time since I've posted; I've been superbusy after this trip with packing etc...so it may be a while before a signifigant post. I am working on a draft...

BUT, you can see me in person on friday june 30!
the white buffalo woman will return again...

On the road again

2006-06-14T14:05:00.000-04:00

Many of you already know that I am leaving tonight for "Rock'n'roll fantasy weekend." Sadly, faithful readers, this means that I will be taking a hiatus until at least Tuesday. But I don't want anyone to get lonely, so here are some suggestions of how you can cope with my absence:

Look through old blog entries and click on all the links. Mine is one of those blogs that gets better with every read; you can always discover something new

Watch episodes of The Maxx on youtube.com. That shit is fucking great.

Go to Bushwick Country Club, Union Pool, or Atlantic Center and take photobooth pictures with a printout of my blog.

Think up some witty/snide comments to post when I get back.

Make some fresh hummus and send it to me next week.

Use your imagination...it'll be ok. I'm always blogging in spirit.

Godspeed!

You said, "done is good," but done well is so much fucking better

2006-06-07T13:25:00.000-04:00

Note, I thought I posted this a couple days ago...so, sorry lauren for accusing you of not reading my blog...um...I'm a jerk.

Ok, so first things first: on account of the obscene rainfall I'm sure all you NYers noticed, all my initial friday day plans were replaced with movie watching, and napping. I then went to Coda with my soon to be (and not SH8H) roomate. I proceeded to get my drink on for a bit and then headed downtown for sushi, drinks, and grass with JD. Then the usual sort of relaxed weekend commenced. There was walking in the rain, and eating, and I almost saw Army of Shadows but it was sold out. I was pretty devestated but then I pouted and jumped up and down for a couple minutes and felt much better. There was an almost nap and an actual nap. Very action-packed. Then I went out for some MORE drinks here, there, and Mona's. I almost fell out of my chair following a little bit of slurred speech but regained control (see here for more chair incidents). Then Sunday it was time for work again.

Monday I went to see Deadboy and the Elephantmen. You see, DB and the E are playing at Bonnaroo, but I found out they were playing an early showcase at Mercury Lounge, So after an afternoon of coupling with LH I invited NW to join me on the outing. From an instrumental standpoint, the compositions weren't very complicated, and the melodic progressions perhaps a little uninspired, but they were solid, catchy, and really let Dax Riggs' voice shine. He really sang his heart out, drunk though he was (he at one point said "i hope none of you are as drunk as I am..."). His presense was great and had managed to have a fairly large crowd engaged (especially considering it was about 730pm). The drummer was perhaps the most enthused of the group, just exploding all over the set and then quietly composing her sweaty self and meekly thanking the crowd after each song. Not since playing with my friend RS in high school have I seen a female drummer let it rip like that. And I'm not just saying that because I wanted to take that Louisiana girl backstage and properly thank her for her spirited performance. Plus, they ended with a cover of "wave of mutilation." finis.

Now for the real reason I decided to post today. Has everyone heard the new Stephen Malkmus album? I know that strictly speaking, this is not a "new" album, but it is the most recent. And as I have listened to it more (again, in preparation for Bonnaroo- er I'm sorry "Rock 'n Roll Fantasy Weekend") I have decided that my previous review of "I like it" is the understatement of the day (perhaps even the week). Something to point out here, is that I was working as an artist's assistant for the woman who is now married to Stephen while he was writing this album. I don't say this just to namedrop, but because crazy though it might sound, I can really hear her influence on this album. The whole album sounds like something one miught write with her imput. The whole thing is very touching to me...especially because they had only been seeing each other (and long distance) for a short time at that point,and I used to hear them talking on the phone. They were in that phase where you're just so crazy about each other. Besides, apparently she was the first to inspire a true love song for artists (post paint boy: Revelation artistry; So fed up with hypocrisy; There isn't a label large enough to fit your bill). Freeze the Saints, in particular, really gets me feeling mushy; I feel like I had some sort of inside (yet still "outside") view of that song. And with tracks like No More Shoes, Stephen stretches out his legs for 8 minutes conducting a little jam session with himself (since he recorded most of the song himself in the studio). "I was made for lovin' you baby; give me my alka selzer!!!" awwww... Plus, do I spy a banjo in "It Kills"? I'm not a writer, and especially not a music reviewer (there must be a better term than that), but I'd reccomend this album to anyone. In fact, anyone who does not have it, can comment and I will make them a copy. Seriously, right now.

After many unreturned messages, I was informed today that my Crash DVD is IN THE MAIL. Why now after all these unanswered messages? Could it be that he reads my blog and feared my smirking Facebook revenge? Hmmmmmm... only time will tell.

Coupling one-liner of the week: "Let me just say, that I intend this breast satirically"

2006-06-06T14:51:00.000-04:00

This week on self-h8ting hipster~

Deadboy and the Elephantmen: the merits of simple beats and hot drummers

The new Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper: tastes too much like regular Dr. Pepper + cream soda + cherry Pepto Bismol

Possible methods of revenge when your ex won't return your DVDs: How does one fight a battle over facebook?

Post-memorial day miracle weekend: vastly different than planned but terrific nonetheless

Stephen Malkmus' new album: thumbs up

Work Diary: Unnamed Company has given me the power to predict the past.

Some other clever commentary on events yet to happen: bound to BLOW YOU MIND.

stay tuned!

This was a "Week in Blog" preview, brought to you by El Mediocreo Burrito III: El Mediocreo Burrito III, when you can't get the best, reach for the mediocre.

A sign from above

2006-05-31T18:58:00.000-04:00

The Unnamed Company gods have smiled upon me. While I am working seven days in a row next week, and I am being trained to write sports, I have miraculously landed this Friday off. That means that I have Thursday, Friday, and Saturday off this week. Amazing.
But the question is, what do I do with a free weekend? Surely I can remember back when I didn't work weekends, but even then I was always in the studio. But there's no room to work in my apartment, plus I think after all the stress of the performance I earned the right to take a little time off. So after spending Thursday doing yoga/cleaning/whatever, I figure I have the license to just kick back and do something fun.
Here are some thoughts for the first day/night of my weekend off:

1. Walk from my apt in Bushwick over the Williamsburg Bridge, go to Chinatown, drink bubble tea. Then walk over the Manhattan bridge and go to Park Slope. Take pictures in photobooth at Atlantic Center. Return over Brooklyn Bridge. Scrape pile formerly known as SH8H off pavement and onto subway car. Return on L train and shower. Then off to Lizard Lounge for pizza and drinks. Goal: stumble home in one piece.

2. Take scenic walk under JMZ and then get on train at Marcy Ave. Switch at Canal street and take a journey to Brighton Beach. Buy copious amounts of nuts and dried fruit. Go to Coney island and finally ride the rollercoaster. Tell patrons in front of Nathan's what's really in those things. Take walk on beach and play "find the syringes." Eat nuts on subway ride back. Order Mexican feast at apt. Get dolled up and go out to my favorite bar in Manhattan, Rue B.

3. Dress up like a super hipster/skater loser and take my miniature child's skateboard to Union Square. Shoot an ironic video of me making an ass of myself skating around and falling. Take it really seriously and yell at those who laugh at me and tell them they're just jealous of my "mad sk8ting skills, yo!" Go home and use pictures to create a myspace alter-ego. Then go out and drink.

4. Go to the fucking beach. mmmmmmmmmm...

Cast your vote!

A friendly reminder to those who don't love me enough to read my blog-

Willow Barnett
Jen Bracket
Jeris Brunette
Collyn Gold
Lauren Haggis
Cristina Sigmond

read it!

It's "no pants" 'o clock, do you know where your Mom is?

2006-05-29T21:37:00.000-04:00

Memorial day weekend wrap-up:

I know you all want to know, "Did the SH8H go to the Unnamed Company party??!" Well, no, I didn't. I was at work until 2:45am which considering my four hours of sleep the previous night, I was pretty much the walking dead. But fear not my faithful readers, the weekend was far from over!

First of all, I had two nights off in a row! Time off from work of course, could only lead to one thing: unnecessary drinking. The first night (Sunday) yielded the discovery that my air conditioner no longer smells like cat piss and therefore can be used! * Then on Monday LB (SH8H wifey) and I took a walk to Manhattan under the shade of the scenic JMZ. The walk was nice although hot as fucking hell... Since we had been in the AC all night, we wore jeans, which was our fatal mistake. It was so unbearable we had to duck into Babeland on the LES to cool off. In the meantime we browsed their selection and I generally irritated the saleswoman by asking such questions as "what exactly is Malaysian rubber?" Do you know?

After many errands, LB and I returned home and began a massive re-organizing/packing endeavor. I packed all my artthings, and threw out about 4 huge garbage bags of shit as well as lots of old drawings. I was so thrilled with the downsizing, and LB with being able to move shit into the closet, that we realized we had no choice but to go drinking. So we went out to Sweet Ups and got senselessly drunk off beer and jager/stoli. We also went to Grand Morelos for the second time that day. This morning I remembered why I switched from beer to liquor. Long live the yeasty beer stomach!

***
Top one-liners of the weekend:
"That is soooooooooooo isocentric..."
"Slapstick is the universal language."
***

and now, one final message...
This is a shout out to the individuals who say they read my blog, or that they "totally will soon." I know you don't read my blog. I know this because I repeat things that were in my blog in conversation. If you had read my blog, you might say "God Mika I KNOW, I already read it in your fucking blog." I sometimes even mention that you would already know what I was talking about if you read my blog...so this goes out to you. I will continue mentioning your names at the end of my blog until you read it. Comment and prove me wrong!

Willow Barnett
Jen Bracket
Jeris Brunette
Collyn Gold
Lauren Haggis
Katy Martineau
Cristina Sigmond

~mm signing off.

*The short story of the air conditioner is that 1.5 years ago a stray cat climbed above my air conditioner and became stuck. I became aware of this when my apartment became overwhelmed with the smell of cat urine. It lingered for some time, and even eight months later when I tried to use the AC, it still smelled. The estimated time it takes to get cat piss smell out of an air conditioner? 1.5 years.

And success was mine.

2006-05-27T19:07:00.000-04:00

Because I've been so overwhelmed with fan mail about my performance last night, I've decided simply to blog about it- in the interest of saving time with all those replies.
The performance went near-perfect. I was really freaking out at first when my performance was being delayed and had a few moments of panic when I got the "one minute!" call and put on the remainder of my costume, but after a few deep breaths I began to settle into my "performance autopilot" and projected into my happy place. I had some interesting discussions with New Party Club-goers and the whole thing panned out pretty much how I had intended. It was followed by 4ish hours of celebrating my New York debut, and 3-4ish hours of sleep before going off to SIGN MY NEW LEASE! That's right folks, no worries about jinxing it; I am moving to S. 4th Street on July 1st. Plus my roommate doesn't move in for about three weeks afterwards, so I have some time to really settle in. I think I might buy a hibachi and start BBQing on the roof...

***

It's "Chinese Night" here at Unnamed Company,[edited for content, again] This will be my first real chance to seriously socialize with my co-workers, besides the occasional recent chat in the break room. I guess I'm thinking it's time to stop being such a snob about meeting people I work with (although I really do know an awful lot of people...). Why stop now? Why not just have 418945248 friends and be "too cool" to hang out with anyone more than once a month? Although honestly the top rotation of close friends is already at maximum capacity...maybe I should rethink this. Gawd, sometimes it's SOOOOOOOOO hard to be me.

On that note, I better get back to checking Laguna Beach re-runs. Actually no, first I have a story about that bitch Kristin Cavallari (if you've already heard this, bear with me): So I spent this past New Year's Eve in LA, and I went to this Club The Lobby. They were filming Laguna Beach and lo and behold, I found myself standing behind Kristin in the bathroom line. I had this overwhelming urge to tell her that she was the embodiment of everything I despise in America, women, television and humanity in general. I wanted to say that she made me want to vomit all over her $2000 tacky designer dress, and that she seriously needs to get herself to the gym before the end of filming. But alas, I realized that being the pale, small chested brunette girl dressed all in black, I would be edited into "that jealous girl that's clearly not from here." Regrettable, I had not thought of just punching her in the face. A knuckle sandwich is worth a thousand words...

There must be a devil between us...or whores in my head.

2006-05-24T20:45:00.000-04:00

Warning: The title may be the most interesting part of this post. I am writing out of complete boredom; proceed with caution-

It was another lonely night at Unamed Company. [edited for content, must not compromise "confidentiality"...bummer right?] Is it possible that I've become merely an appendage to the machine of "the man"? Best not to think of these things...

Anyway, with SH8H wifey off in Kansas, I have the clothing/book landfill that was once my apartment all to myself! Whatever will I do? I guess ideally I would pack, but that's probably not realistic. No, as an official notch on my geek belt, I have made grand plans of cataloguing my CDs between social engagements. (Quick Survey: How geeky do you think it is to be excited about creating an excel spreadsheet to catalogue your music collection by artist, album, and year?)

Man, coming up a little dry this post....um...ok, ok here we go. So after careful consideration I've decided to go to Bonnaroo this year. Now Tara, I know what you're thinking... Yes, I know the line of cars will be a minimum of five miles long (You showed me the pictures), and yes there will be mud, it will be hot, and I will get 484548945489 bug bites. But I've been in sweat lodges, so I'm not too worried about the heat getting me down; lines don't bother me out much because I don't drive and I generally don't care. Ok, the bug thing will definitely freak me out, but then again I squatted in that creepy building at Elsewhere Artist Collaborative in Greensboro, NC, and there were all kinds of chiggers and shit, and fucking roaches, and somehow I made it through. Am I just kidding myself? Perhaps...but the truth is I like the whole road trip festival camping dirty crowded loud hot hippie-infested sort of thing. I used to live for this shit, and you know what I always say: you're never too young to feel the need to relive your youth. That's why I'll be starting the draft of my memoir upon graduation.

Congratulations for making it to the end of the post! As a token of my gratitude, here. Go on...click it.

And thanks to Brian for noticing my iRonic white earbuds plugged into my MP3 CD player. <3 mm

You heard it here first!

2006-05-23T18:48:00.000-04:00

By popular demand (and rumor), I will be performing at the New Party Club as the White Buffalo Woman at 11:00PM. Not only will this be the debut of White Buffalo Woman but also my first New York performance.

Come witness history in the making; be able to say "I saw Mikella Millen's first performance in New York, waaaaay before she sold out and started selling t-shirts of her face at Brooklyn Industries."

See flyer and directions below-
Spread the news!

If you know what's good for you...

2006-05-22T00:58:00.000-04:00

you'll come see my performance at the New Party Club.

DIRECTIONS...

TAKE THE L TRAIN INTO BROOKLYN
GET OFF AT DEKALB, WALK WEST ON WYCKOFF TO HART AND WYCKOFF

OR

TAKE THE M TO MYRTLE-WYCKOFF
WALK WEST ON WYCKOFF TO HART

Be there, or be completely lame.

"You know what really grinds my gears?"

2006-05-21T20:19:00.000-04:00

Not this-

Some notable (or odd) sights of the weekend:

On First (or Second) Avenue, a man was passing out packs of gum along with postcards encouraging you to stop writing letters to your congressmen and protesting to take action on matter which concern you, but instead to use the power of prayer. Prayer is the answer.

A little girl's pink bicycle (complete with training wheels) was locked to some scaffolding. It was surrounded by other bigger bikes. Who would steal a little girl's bike?

Walking home in the afternoon I saw a street fair on Graham Avenue (the Avenue of Puerto Rico!). Performing onstage were five girls dressed in huge afros, velvet minidresses, and huge platform heels (like...practically stripper heels). Before I could take a picture, a terrifying drill sergeant of a dance instructor hurried them offstage to change in a makeshift tent (presumably for the encore?). I felt like I may have been trapped in a scene from the Bushwick version of Donnie Darko...except that there was no crashed aircraft, or time travel, and the music was pretty shitty (so in other words, not really like it at all).

In Union Sqaure, a squirrel walked across the path and rested its front paws up on the first rung of the fencing. It stared at my friend Lindsay and I for thirty seconds straight.

On the L train I was listening intently to some new tracks I had just burned to CD. I had just bought a pair of white Maxell earbuds at Walgreens; above them was a handwritten sign saying "no iPod, no problem!" I bought them partly for the ironic satisfaction in wearing white earbuds that were IN FACT attached to an MP3 CD player (sooooooooo old school), and also because I misplaced mine. Anyway, I decided to skip a song and took the player out of my purse; I looked up and noticed this hipster chick sitting across from me. I watched a look of complete confusion wash over this girl's face, followed by a look of disgust. Mission.Accomplished.

Also, an apartment update: My new roommate and I are in the process of getting the lease application together. All we need to do is fax it, and then meet with the landlord this week. Hellooooooooo Bedford Avenue...

I <3 LV (and SS)

2006-05-16T19:46:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,
As you well know, last night I went to see Laura Viers! At first I was kinda unsure about it, because I wasn't really in the mood to go to a show alone...I almost considered just staying home. But after smoking a bowl and getting ridiculous stoned I was ready for adventure, and what an adventure it was (or seemed then anyway).
I leave the house in one of those periodic downpours last night, which was pretty intense at the time. I arrive at the J train in rare form, finding myself infatuated with the rain falling on the tracks.
Soon after boarding the train I encounter a rare breed of hipster, that is, the Fashionista Hipster That Almost Isn't a Hipster at All*. Fascinating creatures they are... She sat across from me next to her friend who was clearly the business oriented, and probably smarter one. They were accompanied by a silent Abercrombie & Fitch model with a fauxhawk; he just sat with his arm around the hipster chick, looking completely vapid. The hipster girl spoke in that classic airhead speak that basically made every sentence into a question.

Their conversation was as follows:
Hipster: So like, I think that maybe, like, I might want to go into broadcasting or journalism?
Smarty: No, you definitely mean broadcasting. You don't want to be a journalist.
Hipster: No, but like, you know, just like, to try it? Like I think I would like it-
Smarty: No. You wouldn't like journalism, you're thinking of broadcasting.
Hipster: But like, I knew some people at [newspaper from out of town, perhaps hometown] and like, I think it would be cool?
Smarty: Listen, I used to work as an editor at [newspaper form out of town] and you definitely wouldn't want to be a journalist. Trust me.
Hipster: But, like, I don't know-
That was about all I could take, but let me be clear- this girl's grasp on the English language wouldn't even qualify her to write for, say, the Gilmore Girls. Not by a long shot, and that's saying a lot. Those who are responsible for the Gilmore Girls ought to have their balls cut off and thrown in the ocean. Where was I? Diary, you have to stop me when I get so sidetracked!

Anyway, I walk to Mercury Lounge where the man at the door reminds me that I've just turned 21 this year! (Wow, I almost forgot!) I wander in to watch the second act of the night, which is actually the guitar player from LV. I found myself completely mystified by his use of a strange gadget that was recording his voice, then setting it to play on a loop, and allowing him to slowly layer a song of him harmonizing live with himself (does that make sense?). I wasn't really sure if he was actually good or if I just thought he was, given my condition, but it was working for me.

But then, a magical thing happened- I was walking to the bathroom, when I brushed by SUFJAN STEVENS! Be still my beating heart! I made a double take, and then he turned back too...our eyes met...we shared a moment. ::swoon:: There was a part of me that thought maybe he recognized me from staring up at him dreamy-eyed in the front row at nearly every show he's played in NYC. I guess that's not realistic- but when has that ever gotten in the way of my larger than life ego?
After sending some frantic text messages from the BR, I returned to the crowd, and tried not to stare at him longingly.

LV came on and played pretty much all my favorite songs right at the beginning. I don't know whether this was substance related or just her, but I became totally overwhelmed with visuals...I guess of the lyrics, or perhaps where she was when she wrote them? I don't know how else to describe it. She had such a great connection with her guitar player too; they really seemed in synch, giving each other these knowing looks... Their stage presence was terrific overall, but I found the actual sound a little unsatisfying. There was something a little weird going on with her voice...I got the impression that she was experiencing some throat issues. The scene was alright generally, but there was this weird guy in front of me that was totally invading my space, and then another guy behind me that wouldn't back up...it was kinda weirding me out. I should have said something, but I didn't want to make a scene during her set.
All things considered I guess it was a pretty good show, and seeing SS just made my night.

Seeing this show has just got me so pumped to see the Liars... but I'll write more on that later.

Well, only an hour left to kill at work before watching my show and going home to my new SH8H wife (LB). I better go check my Myspace six or seven times-

Love,
MM

* the FHTAIHA is that rich girl that is essentially in a classic hipster ensemble, just classier (or at least more expensive). Her gold bangles are Chanel (as is her quilted leather purse), her boots are new and clean, her clothes are in good condition....good fabrics- you get the idea. This is the trickiest kind of hipster, because she's almost just "hip." It's a subtle distinction...

I hate it, it's unwatchable, and I hate it

2006-05-15T11:29:00.000-04:00

Before I say anything else, let me just congratulate myself for having a friend on gawker.com's blues states this week. Some of you, faithful readers, probably know him (gasp! I've said too much).

I know, BPD, that you already have a work diary that is very funny and accurately describes our work environment, but alas, I must devote some time to my ridiculous job as well. Oh, have I lost you? God you're slow. Ok, from the top:

I work at [the following paragraph was edited for content. for confidentiality purposes, it is best not to speak at length about "unnamed company"] the worst part, is Coffee-mate non-dairy powdered creamer. Let me take this time to say FUCK COFFEE-MATE. Being the healthy, organic little hipster that I am, putting powdered creamer in my coffee (which is 100% necessary at this job) makes my skin crawl. God, do you have any idea what's IN that stuff? ::Shudder::

Last night I had the pleasure of watching THREE STRAIGHT HOURS of Survivor Panama: Exile Island (the two hour season finale plus the reunion, yes!) For those of you have never suffered through Survivor, the basic premise is that 16 people are picks to live on an island, have their lives taped, and see what happens when people stop bathing, and compete for "survival" by engaging in scavenger hunts and competitive games. This is what I find to be the most ridiculous part (well, if you can even compare). They compete in games periodically throughout their time on the island to win "immunity" from the tribal council, which consisted of the people who were voted off. I mean all the alliances and backstabbing is kind of entertaining I guess, but come on. Now if they didn't give them any aid, there was no time frame, and the last one alive on the island got a million dollars, THAT would be great (or you know, illegal, whatever). I'm just saying...

This show represents everything that is wrong with this country. Seriously. I hate this show. I hate its melodramatic music, and flashback montages, and that tool Danielle (who has the most atrocious Boston accent). I hate that freeloading yoga instructor Aras (who won), and especially the host. The only remotely rewarding part was when Shane ripped Aras and Danielle a new asshole in the tribal council. And what is up with all the men wearing board shorts...ew. SOOOOO over. God why am I even writing about this? Fuck Survivor too.

On a more pleasant note: A fellow SH8H will soon be joining me in my studio abode until I move next month. Pictures to come...

Well, at least I don't own an ipod...

2006-05-12T14:19:00.000-04:00

For a long time I denied what I had become. I would rationalize that I liked Modest Mouse waaaaaay before they sold out and did that car commercial. I only wore chuck taylors because they were the cheapest sneakers at the army navy surplus. I did wear ironic t-shirts, but only if they had been given to me. A couple weeks ago I was sitting across from a certain gentleman complaining about how I looked like such hipster scum that morning, at which point he said quite matter-of-factly: "You're like a self-hating hipster." As soon as the words were uttered, I knew they were true...but what now? Well I figured if I'm going to slowly continue becoming the complete embodiment of a stereotype, I ought to just give in and go all out.

I decided to go ahead and plan my move to Mecca (aka Williamsburg), buy some more ironic t-shirts, name drop my friends in the music industry at every opportunity, and stop hiding my obvious feeling of superiority over everyone and everything (well except those few people and things that I like). Also I intend to write even more pretentious run-on sentences and make absurd declarations of judgment over all things pop-culture related. Most importantly, I have started a blog that serves no real purpose but to satirically discuss my life as if everyone else is deeply concerned with the irony of my current situation.

Unfortunately for you, I really can't reveal any more details of what's to come at this juncture. However until next time, I leave you with a little haiku (courtesy of Ms. Buechner):

O, you thrift store lads
I thrill at your skinny pants!
Artfully mussed hair

2006-05-08T20:04:00.000-04:00

Coming soon...