raised on promises.

fuck photoshop. my heart will always belong to paint. i made this mad long ago, back when "american girl" was the jersey shore anthem of '08 (as claimed by erin adelung and probably no one else). this picture is really pretty. 

anyone else think kelly clarkson's song new song is bitchin? well it doesnt really matter if you do, because i think it's pretty great. and what i think is alwaysss righhtttt. 

blame it on the boogie.

alison mosshart, you are cool.

crimson and clover

if there is one person i want to grow up to be its nicole richie. MINUS THE WHOLE PREGGERS THING OBVI. and dating/marrying/fucking joel madden. if i were her, i would def pick someone cooler and hotter than that dude. like cmon wtf? he is so plain, and in good charlotte, and like is kinda chubby sometimes. what are you thinking, nickyyyy? and now your preggers again? GROSS! i cant believe you are doing this to me.

like i love harlow and shit and if i ever had to have a kid that i didnt actually birth myself bc thats the only kind of kid i will ever have, i would choose harlow. but bitch has really harshed nicoles mellow. remember when she used to wear cool shit like everyday and was slightly underweight?! i miss those glory days. bitch would drive on the wrong side of the fucking freeway and not give a fuck. 

no one can ever take this ^ away from me bb.

diamond slippers

i have an addiction. not many people know about it. i even try to hide it from the people that already know. my methods of secrecy are totally useless, they always seem to find me out eventually.  i spend too much money that i dont have on this silly habit. and even though i tend to buy a lot of it, i dont even use most of it. i just find comfort in the fact that i have it in case i do need it. i'm running out of places to keep my shit too. if my mom knew, she would say im trying to fill an emotional void in my life or some shit. but fuck it, sometimes i just need to buy some clothes. and speaking of clothes, it was just fasshiiiooon week.

doo ri tights.

peter som.

marchesa.

karen walker.

erin fetherston.

dvf.

jason wu.

alexandre herchcovitch.

alexandre herchcovitch.

michael kors.

(this is the outfit i plan to wear everyday

when i'm officially a baller.)

proenza schouler.

these pictures are from style.com. i dont feel like getting sued or something crazy like that.

BREAKING NEWS!

i was in bayonne today. i had a dinner & movie date with my mom (bitch still hasnt put out.). but we were in the car, and katy perry came on. bitch knew all the words to the chorus (and obvi looked super cool)! and shes never heard the song before in her life. so my statements in my previous blog proved true. so i winnnnnnnnn.

WHERE THE FUCK IS BEING BOBBY BROWN? that show was probably too good so the government had to take it off because it would resurge the economy or something. or like cure AIDS. obama doesnt want that to happen because he wants to be the world's beacon of hope, and not bobby b. that is the only logical explanation i can think of. obama is such a selfish cunt. robbing the world of its happiness.

i love bravo. they always have the trashiest, classiest shit shows ever. but being bobby brown really blew me away. never has such pure gold  exited the tv screen and shook me to the core. i guess this really goes back to my love for crackheads. my world revolves around those bbs. this show let me enter the hallowed crack den of the craziest of all the 'heads- whitwhit and bb. 

romantic.

man, this show is almost too cute for me sometimes. those lovebirds dont hide their love from the tv cameras or even their own children.  in a couple episodes im sure that bobby kristina brown ( or bobbykriss, as bobby b likes to call her) gets thrown out their hotel rooms so they could totes fuck. or maybe not that i think of it, they probably just wanted to do some crack. its also weird how they are always in hotel rooms. its either hotel rooms or a Dave and busters playing some skeeball (but more like 8 ball amirite?). but whatever, whether they love each other or the crack rock this show is all about the romance. true love is being able to stick your hand up your partners butt to pull out their poop. and im not like saying this from experience i swear, but bobby insinuated he did that for whitney. or at least i think he did in one episode. im really not even sure. but one thing i am sure of,  i wish i had a man like him. 

barnaclegooose

idk, i just like this song.

you cut me open and i keep bleeding, keep keep bleeding loveeeeee

too hot to do work in the computer lab, so i will do this instead!

too many good things about this photo.
but one day i will own a sweatshirt with my puppy's face on it annnddd a chanel bag, but hopefully never make that face.

nala was there!

this is pretty.

who you know roll bentley 'fore the album drop?

katy perry is kinda cool. and im really ashamed that i think that. this blog should be called things i secretly love but are too ashamed to admit to a lot of people. anyway, so i like that one song hot n cold. it's way too catchy and upbeat and...just really good. the repetition is hard not to love really, like i immediately know the next words she is going to 'sing' and that boosts my confidence a little. even if you are a little unsure you can always just mouth the words and still look really cool (not like ive try alone in my mirror or anything weird like that) the song also rose way too quickly on my itunes top 25 and i def reset that play count quick so no one would ever find out. I HAVE A REPUTATION TO UPHOLD THANKS.

i also just might like her because of the shit she wears. i feel like shes always wearing some crazy onesie with some sort of piece of real fruit of it, but bitch makes it work.

cool fashions, KP.

maybe its cause she looks exactly like zooey deschanel. i could pull off wearing a life sized fruit bowl if i looked like that too. i guess im gonna use this opportunity to remember about how cute zooey looked at the grammys!

left, zooey (ONLY LOOK FROM KNEES UP TO EXPERIENCE THE PRETTY!). right, katy-bear (TOTAL FUGZ).

but back to real talk, this is def where my love for KP ends. like bitch cant even really sing and i havent really followed, but i know she probably says stupid shit a lot of the time. i just thought it should be known that from time to time, i dont mind the bitch. and by time to time i mean the 3 minutes and 40 seconds i dedicate to her every time i get down to that one hot beat.

who be dippin in the benz wit da spoilers.

there is a guy that sorta looks like win butler that works where i intern. every time he looks at me or tells me to move because i am sitting in someone else's desk, my heart flutters away to the blistery love nooks of montreal or whatever windy, romantic, french place winny b. is from. and since i cant post pictures of the guy i work with because that is a creep status i cant allow myself to reach (yet) , i will post some of win- my second rate love bandit. 

sidenote: once, i saw bruce at giants stadium, but had to leave early because my mom thought we were going to get hit by lightning. also worth noting is my irrational fear of lightning. however, i contained that shit for bruce, my mom was too much of a pussy.

i own a pair of uggs. i know what you are thinking, and yes i hate myself too. but i cant help it. they are so warm and comfortable. they are like placing your feet in a toasted marshmellows dipped in clouds. and lately i've found myself in a fashion slump, i just throw on a plaid button up, leggings, and flats ( LINDSAY LOHAN IS MY FASHION GODDESS) and call it a day. a really BUSTED day, but a day nonetheless. and like maybe im giving myself too much credit, its not like i was that fashionable before anyway? so like uggs really fit in easily with my new lifestyle choice of bumming it out (and whoring it up, AMITOTALLYRITE?). If sweaties and uggs were socially acceptable at Lang you best believe you would never see me in anything else. But instead I am cursed with hipsters and forever plagued by their effortless fashions.   everytime those uggs are on my feet, i feel compelled to tell everyone that that yeah im wearing uggs, and i know they suck. i'm like the fat kid in school who makes fun of himself first before anyone else gets the opportunity. but hey kate moss was def never the fat kid, and i obvi look like kate moss when i wear my uggs.

but anyway, i recently found this site lookbook.nu. and fuck has it taken over my life. im obsessed with it. whenever i need to really feel bad about myself i just look at that site because i cant nor ever will be as cute as anyone on it. honestly i guess i could like blindfold myself and throw on a bunch of random shit and call it cool like all these pretty skinny bitches on this site already do.  as if the uggs werent enough, i hate myself even more because i am sitting around in my uggs looking at this site wishing i wasnt wearing uggs but instead wearing like some metallic sweater that i found on the streets of paris that used to belong to some psychotic meth addict or something. as long as i call it vintage though, its totally fucking hip. 

i found lookbook while i was reading this fashion blog by a 12 year old. yeah, a fucking 12 year old. when i was that age, i was more concerned about what pog i was going to buy that weekend instead of the fucking rodarte tights that the designers personally made for me. fuck her. whatever, because i know in whatever bumblefuck state she lives in those other 12 year olds that go to her school totally swirlie her for looking like the pigeon lady from mary poppins. (I'M NOT BITTER THAT SHE IS COOLER THAN ME AT ALL.) fuck i should go there myself and swirlie her cunt ass.

whatever, at least my uggs will never judge me.

you're pretty, keith richards.

no joke, i would def catch a (metaphorical) boner for this dude back in the day, and maybe even today?

chicken crisper bites, get in my mouth.

Four mini sandwiches with chicken breaded and fried to perfection. Topped with cheddar cheese, sauteed onions, pickle and ancho-chile ranch dressing on sesame seed buns. Served with crispy onion strings and ancho-chile ranch dressing.

dreamlover.

unforgivable

something really traumatic happened to me this morning. i lost my right contact lens. it was last one too because i got the (crack) shakes and always lose those shits. they like turn invisible once they drop off your finger. so now i have to walk around this city with fucking glasses for probably eternity. BITCH I AINT NO NERD!

my life: dedicated to britney spears

when i first heard womanizer, i wasnt too sure about it. but i had to get off my blackout high horse and dive into the circus madness. and i did, hard. and god knows ive had my fair share of womanizers this year(LOLNOTTRUEATALL) so this album is hella personal for both me and britney. its obvi this song is about k fed- like cmon brit brit get over it already have you seen the pictures of him recently? hes like 14 lbs heavier than you were at last years vma performance- and that is a feat because you were huge! i wish i knew how to insert pictures into this shit bc i know for a fact he wears socks with sandals- and no woman needs that britney! even you, the denim ballgown queen. oh yeah and the chorus to this is like so empowering- fembot much, britbrit? 

but oh god, the clincher is def circus. dont even get me started on the kind of tingles i get when i listen to this song. like the video, with its fireworks and elephants (not britney) and the pre-chorus shit going on building me up. UGH im creaming my jeans just thinking about it. you cant really dance to this though, and lord knows ive tried, i really have- all in the name of britney. i guess its more for listening alone in your room while you pretend you are britney (post breakdown-more comeback era, obviously) the beginning is a little weird to this shit though. she is trying to sing to us like she is one of us and not a megastar diva, but we all know she is singing this from a plush booth lined in like swedish baby hair while she eats bars of gold. I AINT FOOLED!

ive honestly never listen to the next song 'out from under' its way too slow and lame. too many of the songs on this album are slow and shit. LIKE WTF i know your going through rough shit and this is like your most personal album or some shit but dont you want to just dance (inadvertent lady gaga reference.) it out britney? i know i do. from here on, im not even mentioning the slow ones, i aint got time for that shit!

legit didnt realize what the title of if you seek amy meant until like a week ago. i thought i it was some crazy reference to amy winehouse- but i guess my mind always lingers to that crazy crackwhore. however it actually spells out f-u-c-k me, boy was i shocked. like the song is totally changed for me. at first it was just a bunch of random words that didnt really make sense at all but now  the song totally relates to me because all of the boys and all the girls ALWAYS want to f-u-c-k me. ADD THAT TO THE ALREADY LONG LIST OF THINGS ME AND BRITBRIT HAVE IN COMMON!

the intro to kill the lights scares me a little each time. it reminds me of like ww2 or something equally as scary but damn this song is good. SO FIERCE. "is that money in your pocket or are you happy to see me?" <~~question that forever plagues my mind- everyone around me is either hella rich or catching boners! but yeah in this song she is letting us know SHES HATES THE PAPZ, thats why she is always calling them up telling them where she is! i get it now!

 

i cant really say whether i prefer blackout or circus. they are equally beautiful albums- both personal and inspirational. i wish i could see this bitch in concert- im pretty sure they hand out free cheetos since her life is basically sponsored by the company. AND BITCH I LOVE FREE THINGS.

HAY AMERICAN!

hey remember that dude who won all those medals this summer in japan or korea or wherever the fuck the olympics were this time? YEAH HIS NAME IS MICHAEL PHELPS. aka the name i whisper to the heavens every night before i go to sleep. 

i was recently at my local grocery store checking out their selection of flaming hot cheetos (BIG UPS TO BRIT BRIT) when i stumbled upon the michael phelps box of special k (the breakfast of AMERICAN champions!) i was immediately flooded with summer memz drowning in red, white, and michael phelps. i truly dedicated myself to this man every night of these games- or like at least the 30 seconds he was on screen totally dominating USA style. he glided through that water like a gallant bald eagle that can swim real fast. obviously an accomplishment cause like eagles cant even swim and shit. i doubt i was the only one creaming my jeans when he won against the serbian fucker cavic. that shit was down to like a finger- a big michael phelps middle finger to fucking serbia for trying to steal one of his precious golds. M PHELPS DONT TAKE NO SILVER. HE WILL FEED IT TO YOUR MAMA.

since we are like kinda talking politics or something, i just want to say fuck obama- yeah, i definitely said it, you can read it again. because i will go as far as to say that without phelps, there would be no obama. m phelps paved the way for that dude, and obama doesnt even care. mikey changed the american spirit with his abnormally huge torso, double jointed ankles, and crazy ears (and probably huge dick, but that goes without saying) .those 8 gold medals proved we americans are heroes and patriots and whatever. what did obama ever do? (terrorist associations aside, of course.) in order to make up for it, obama should consider adding another star to our great flag in honor of phelpsie for he is our national star(fish)- lol get the ocean/swimming/dolphin reference?. i kinda wish i could be an american flag, so not only could i always embody the national spirit, but ALSO maybe meet the fate of draping that great american patriots body- and probably catch a lady boner while doing so-amirite?. 

but ok, im going to be real honest right now. michael is an american hero and and total eye candy and whatever but the true break out star was herman phelps, his english bulldog (yeah, i wish it was american too- THESE COLORS DONT RUN.) . i didnt even give a shit about mikey until i happened upon a commercial he did with herman. ( like i might still not even give a shit about him, maybe its really all just about herman? ~*total life revelation*~) but anyway that commercial just featured a lot talk of food (8,000 calories worth!!!!) , a lot of couch sitting, a general assumption that he is fucking a lot of bitches on that couch (michael, not herman- and not that michael is fucking herman but actual ladies- just to clarfiy), and a bulldog- aka my perfect life aka michael phelps life (minus the 12005 hours of training- duh, i dont move, cmon!!)

but also, dude loves getting high. there are so many reasons why he is the perfect man, it gives me ~*butterflies*~.

so thank you michael phelps for being the pride and glory of america. just as your body undulates through those crystal blue waters, so does the american flag waving high and proud for you, our new american hero.

TRAINWRECK PT. 2

anyone who knows me knows i love a cracked out bitch as much as the next person. but there is something truly special about amy winehouse. i seriously love the bitch. like ok maybe not as much as i did a couple months ago when she wasnt as cracked out, but bitch is still fierce. she wears cool shit some of the time, when shes not just straight up wearing underwear, but face it even thats cool. and i'm also impressed by her crazy beehive. its a wig, but still, it amazes me how she remembers to bobby pin that shit in sometimes. plus i wish i had a wig because, much like her, i would probably not shower that often. i like her. she's cute- busted horse teeth and all. if only she choose a different drug or something. because the only thing i associate with crack is crazy homeless people. and i definitely hate crazy homeless people. like alot. so amy winehouse is a special, crazy gem- a rare, exception- amongst the homeless people she seemingly loves to associate with. 

reasons why she has gained popularity with me as of recent:
she fucking wailed out on a fan at glastonbury. like, ok, he allegedly grabbed her boob or whatever. but i think that was purely by mistake. wino may be cool but who knows what kind of crack AIDS skin disease she has going on. she must have some kind of disease that isnt even classified yet. so the fan was def not trying to get a handful of that by any means, im sure of it. so that only means that she just went nuts and i love it. 

she also made sure to mention her blakey at the nelson mandela birthday extravaganza (uh, nelson i hate to break it but arent you like 90 years old? should you be dead by now?) but anyway, im not even going to front. blake fielder-civil or whatever is fucking hot. i would probably do any drug he pushed on me, too. BLAKE > NELSON. like, ok nelson mandela, cry me a river about how you were imprisoned or whatever. anti-apartheid activist, my ass. if you dont wear cute polos, have super foxy tattoos, and/or are a drug addict (i.e. all of blakes super charming qualities), i probably dont care about you. yes, nelson mandela, i'm talking to you. your 27 years in prison dont mean shit compared to what blake and his cake faced lady love are going through. so suck it nelly, free that bb quick or else.

HAY YOU GUYS.

i admit it, i had a livejournal. but i woke up today and decide to be an adult, so i obvi had to get a blog. i'm just going to copy and paste my lj entries here to start. sorry lj, dont be too butthurt. 

ok so i only have this livejournal so i can illegally download music off of mammal_exchange. fuckallay'all, i dont pay no dimes for my jams. so one day, i was browsing through the extensive album archive. you know, looking for the most obscure, hip music so i can have it on my itunes but- let's get serious- never actually listen to it because i'm too busy listening to miley cyrus or some shit. but here i am anyway sorting through piles of garbage- beat happening? like uh you sound old and ugly- no thanks!
but i continue to find myself dicking around aimlessly until i end up at the br tagged albums- and i discover a goldmine. BRITNEY FUCKING SPEARS 'BLACKOUT'. like holy shit, i know i should be thankful to mammal_exchange for like all its' my bloody valentine or like some other 'life changing' album that i can slit my wrists to. but no, fuck that gimme me that greasy, cheese dust queen anyday. 

this is my life changing album. never has an album opened with the greatest 4- dare i say 5- songs ever. i cant even discuss 'gimme more' without getting a little emotional. i mean this was her comeback song. am i the only one who remembers the mtv music awards or whatever? like she totally bombed- and duh, looked totally fat!- but c'mon everyone loves watching a trainwreck crash and burn, especially one that looks like a sausage stuffed into a sequined bikini. i was totally addicted to every move that bitch -voluntarily or involuntarily (i.e psych ward)- made before she awkwardly jiggled her fat ass around that stage, and i would never ask for those precious 4 minutes and 11 seconds back of my life. in fact, i dedicate them to BS, actually. she probably needs them more than i do anyway. bitch has people like betting on her death date. im pretty sure she even has money down so now i gave her a little more time to spend with sean preston and jayden james- those pillsbury doughboys she shot out her muff, fyi. anyway back to the perfection that is this album and my subsequent life thereafter. 
then we get to 'piece of me' which is like a perfect second single. its like a total response to the media bullshit, nahmean? like even though no one to my recollection has ever worried about her being too thin- i'll totally give it to her because bitch is like nuts anyway. no lie, this song drags on a little so i end it pretty early but thats only because i'm eagerly creaming my jeans to get to the next song- 'RADAR'!!!!
THE PLANTINUM EGG AMONGST GOLDEN SHITS. (i dont mean to call the other songs on the album pieces of shit but 'radar' really gets me going.) this song proves me and the diva goddess would be besties. HOW ELSE WOULD I HAVE EVER KNOWN THAT ME AND B. SPEARS ARE INTO THE SAME DUDES???!?! ( i mean besides tabloid covers and shit- LIKE WHO WOULDNT WANT K FED?) interesting sense of style, ten million dollar smile!? i'm so into that guy with the horribly expensive fake set of teeth too, brit-brit! also, there are really no words to describe the great dance moves i have crafted for myself to this song. but dont worry, you will probably see them one day when i am very very drunk ( see i'm totally meant to be britneys bestie! she is always drunk or something! amirite?) 
'break the ice' is like the silent killer. (again, i dont mean to compare anything on this album to anything that also comes out my butt- not that golden shits actually come out my ass either but whatever.) this is definitely the jam that i would be dancing to during my coke fueled nightclub romp, which is what i'm doing every night- if not everyday. being her third single, noone expected this song to even matter but it kinda does. like the piercing, epileptic seizure inducing background music is so approps. its like a metaphor to britneys life trajectory or something. 
i really don't want to write much about this next song. but just you know that 'heaven on earth' sounds like something that would be playing in a 1980s goth club where there would be a lot of leather and whips or something. AKA TOTALLY BRITNEY. AKA TOTALLY ME. 

so yeah, thanks mammal_exchange for letting me look like i actually care about music with the 2000 or so songs that i never really listen to. but i will be forever indebted to your illegal underground operations for the 43 minutes and 6 seconds that i get to surrender myself to the incomparable miss britney spears and her cheeto infused dance music.