Happy Birthday ya Bastard

There was a FIBS celebration last night. It was part birthday party for Ike and his lady Nia, and unofficially post-FIBS-reunion-rehearsal-fuck-yea-we-did-it-let's-get-the-band-back-together party. Lucky for me, the party was held upstairs from my apartment, so Dan and I went in our comfy clothes. Oh yeah!
I'm writing about this small party because I actually enjoyed myself.  Before I moved in with Dan, I had to clean up the result of five dudes and a messy cat living in one giant room. It took a long time and a lot of hard work from me, Dan, my mom, and everyone else who helped to get this loft apartment back into liveable conditions.

This photo is actually towards the end of the cleaning process.
Admittedly, it's taken me a long time to warm up to Dan's friends, and I would normally feel like a huge awkward classical-music-nerd among them. But last night, I finally felt assimilated. I didn't need Dan by my side all night because I know these people. They know me. And that brings me a profound comfort. It helps that more of the posse have girlfriends now. Brandon brought his lady-friend Heather, who's from out of town, and that was really sweet. I should have taken pictures. Oh well, next time.
To sum up the party, I list my favorite keywords/phrases in chronological order:

• Old Fashions
• Night Riding to 7/11
• Broker's 7 hour chicken pot pie
• Gorilla Dick
• "Michael Jackson is perfect!"
  
• "Fuck yes" Whole Foods chocolate ganash cake (beautiful!)
• Sloppy Mess
• Dan's Flash Dance sweatshirt
  

Hats are an unappreciated accessory

As a young female, I'm obsessed with fashion and vintage. I'm super cheap when it comes to buying clothes, but if it's the right piece, if it I think it compliments my identity, it's gotta be mine.

I just stumbled upon Oh!Nena via PSFK all thanks to the new Google Reader explore tab. AND I WANT ONE OF THOSE HATS NOW!!! (not necessarily the one pictured though) Hats/hair pieces are sort of a forgotten lady's accessory. You'll never grow out of them, and they typically keep in your closet forever. Hats are bold and fun. I loooove wearing conversation pieces, which is one of the reasons I adore Lady Gaga, but that's another discussion...

Admittedly, I subscribe to the American Apparell wearing hipster club, and I've faithfully read this one's blog for a couple years now, so I think I know what cool is. But I can't help myself. I am an impressionable young women, and I'll wear whatever for as long as I can get away with it. I've made some progress. I've retired this for this. (Haven't taken a look at the old Buzznet in a looooong time!)

In short, if you're reading this, get me a Venezuelan Oh!Nena hat.

A welcome back?

I haven't written on my silly little blog in ages. When I go back to read old posts, I blush a little and think how juvenile. But now, I don't have much to do. So why not write some silly little posts while I'm on my couch with my cat Mikey sitting next to me and licking himself?
Just recently, I've done some interesting traveling, graduated college, and moved in with my boyfriend and our cat. It's been a big year for me. But like every post-graduate of this era, I have a lot left to figure out.

I think I'll start this new age of posts with a meditation on the neighborhood I now live in.


In September, I made the big move to my boyfriend's apartment in a rapidly gentrifying neighborhood of Chicago.  I love it here. I like the apartment, the community, the art, the FOOD!


My dad won't step foot in my apartment because he thinks the neighborhood is too dangerous. There are gangs here unfortunately. My block has the Party People and all their emblems. But recently, the cops have cracked down and raided some places. I'm oblivious to these raids because I always end up hearing about them from my boyfriend or neighbors. I'm glad security is getting tight, but what I really want is someone to clean up the broken Modelo bottles on our front stoop. And as tough as these Party People try to be, they're just kids. Kids with guns. But kids nonetheless. They are scary, for sure. Especially the dude I see with the gang emblem below his right eye, but they stay out of our business, and I sure as hell don't go messing with theirs.

I make my neighborhood sound like the hood. But it's not. Honestly. I love that on every corner there is a small grocer, or an eloteria. My neighborhood super market is two blocks away. Chinatown, Little Italy, and Bridgeport are the next neighborhoods over. I ride my bike everywhere, but there are buses that can take me anywhere when it gets too cold. Little art galleries are marked with circular black signs, or the orange and blue PodMajersky rectangles. But there are signs of white invasion everywhere. Everyday I see fresh businesses pop up and more young white people walking down the sidewalk. Everyone knows that my neighborhood is the new hipster hotspot, and in the next 5-10 years have unaffordable housing for poor artists like me and the Mexican families I live around. The gangs will be pushed further south or west, and that is just how Chicago does things. At least we won't have the Olympics to deal with!

Seriously?

I'm having a really hard time believing that Heath Ledger is dead. Seriously. Dead? Crap. I really liked him. Not only was he nice to look at, but I really liked his movies too. Fuck. Dead?

The sad thing is that when I go and try to rent my number 1 guilty pleasure movie, 10 Things I Hate About You it will be out of stock for weeks because millions of girls, worldwide will have the same desire. Part of me really hopes that it was a suicide because that will just make him more appealing. People will say, "We had no idea he was suffering so much," and a new layer of depth will be added to the already interesting actor. Do you realize that Brokeback Mountain will reach astronomical popularity because Heath is now dead? It will become monumental. It's sad, but death really is an artist's greatest achievement, especially when they go young.

Dammit Heath, WHY?!?!? I could accept that you had a fiance and a two-year-old kid, but why death? I hope you're happy, you son of a bitch. You had YEARS of movie-making left. I was excited to see you grow older and develop as an actor. Now you're dead and I'm supposed to watch Jake Gyllenhaal? Is that what you wanted? I really thought the movie Candy sucked, but that didn't keep me from watching it, or watching your subsequent films. Oh, wait, there won't be an subsequent films! (I realize the Batman film will come out this summer and there's another film in production, whatevs!) I thought you were the best actor of my generation, and now you're gone. Ass!

My date with The FIBs

Last night, I went to my boyfriend's band's concert. They are known as the FIBs. I've been avoiding this for a long time now. The FIBs are all about punk, irresponsibility, under-age drinking, pot smoking, yelling, moshing, bleeding, and making their own T-shirts... In other words, things I'm not really fond of. And yet, I found myself at their concert last night.

Most things associated with punk concerts: dancing, beer-spilling, and deafening music, I expected. I did not expect fearing for my safety, although perhaps I should have. The FIBs started playing, and the mosh pit began. Really, there was just this one guy (who had the craziest look in his eye and the WORST dance moves I have ever seen!!!) that started smashing into people and getting violent. Honestly, he was trying to start fights with people because he was ready to cause some serious damage, but he masked most of his sadistic desires by violently gyrating.

Then the cops showed up. I wasn't worried because I was 21 and wasn't even drinking, but all the underage kids (and there were many) slipped out the back or hid in a bedroom. Surprisingly enough, crazy dancing guy was no where to be seen either. I would have liked to see him get clubbed. Anyway... One of my boyfriend's buddies got handcuffed because he was mouthing off to the cops, but they didn't arrest him, or anyone else. Cops just like to put on a show, like the FIBs.

The boys did put on a good show, though. They're energetic and like having a good time playing music. But I just don't like punk. In fact, I can't stand it, and it's all that my boyfriend listens to. But for one night, and one night only, I pretended to... care. I didn't grimace, and I tried to not plug my ears. Perhaps I should have done some last minute cramming and learned a song or two to sing along with, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Punk rockers can always spot out a phony anyway. Now, I've done my time, and I don't ever have to go to one of their shows again.

Breaking up with your (gay) boyfriend is hard to do

You know your relationship status has changed when your gay boyfriend, husband, whatever moves out, and you can't help but feel cheap and used.

Alex, my long time gay lover and companion is moving out. I'm mad at him for doing this, even though his reasons are completely reasonable and he has no intention to hurt me. It's not really my place to say what's going on in Alex's life, but I just wish things could have happened differently. I wish things didn't have to happen so soon. I wish I weren't mad at him and could enjoy the time we still have together. I think Alex knows I'm mad at him because he hardly comes out of his room (a new phenomenon that's been happening since last summer).

Not only am I mad, but resentful too. A few days ago I was cursing about him for not getting his shit packed up so the new guy can move in. Part of me can't wait until he's gone to spare me from the awkwardness. Part of me doesn't want the 14th of this month to come so I don't have to say goodbye to him, and say, "See you around," and not really know when I'll see him again, or if I'll even to see him.


A new guy moves in on the 15th. He's nice, responsible, and makes a lot of money. But he won't be my Alex. He won't stay up with me until 4 a.m. watching Queer as Folk and then decide to go jogging on the Lake Shore path just because we can. We won't burn shit in the fire place or play Boggle, and he certainly can't make grape leaves.

I know it's not really breaking up, but it is. We're going our separate ways. Other friends who I've told this story to tell me to not take it personally, but I am. Even though I knew Alex would move out someday, part of me really did want our arrangement to last forever. But like a lot of relationships, we've grown apart the last year or so, and now he's moving on to something else. Eventually, I'll be happy for him and see his new place and hang out more than we did while living together...Eventually.

We'll see what happens on the 14th.

Lllangollen

If you guys still read this, and if you are interested in the DePaul Acappella choir.
We're the shit.

DePaul A Cappella on Llangollen TV