Thursday, May 30, 2013

This makes me exceedingly happy.

Lara Christina
Next week we're talking about fashion stuffs so here's a quick teaser of the new look I'm going for.  Just replace the puppy with a white kitty and the cute girl with John Goodman and it's perfect.

Monday, May 27, 2013

Will you make me one of these planters, chili pie?

Party people, I hope you had a fantastic three day weekend full of cheap beer and even cheaper wieners of questionable origin.  

I entertained some wieners on Saturday (their origin is homosexual so nothing questionable going on there) for a Frito chili pie party.  Wheeee!  I don't think I've had a Frito chili pie in about 15 years so when a craving struck me, I couldn't resist.

We all need more Frito chili pie in our lives.

I even like the phrase 'chili pie.'  It's kinda trashy and maybe even a tad disgusting but in a slightly sexual way.  In fact, I like it so much I'm going to replace my normal nicknames with it.  No more 'sweetheart' or 'honey,' it's 'chili pie' from now on.  

"Hey, how you doin,' chili pie?!"

via Serious Eats
My chili pie totally looked like this... *shifty eyes*

I should have spent the next two days at the mall throwing my money at fine retail establishments to support America, but instead I spent it digging in the dirt.  Don't let anyone ever tell you a design blogger is a glamorous job.

Ok I also watched Arrested Development which is the whitest, most Americanest thing I can do, really, so yay 'merica.

Planting season was about two months ago but I like to toe the line of proper lawn maintenance and respectability.  I got 75% of the way done with my chores and had to quit because the shovel was starting to rub a sore spot on my palm and I'd rather have an ugly yard than rough, calloused monster hands.  

Having my yard and patio become the oasis it is destined to be is taking a bit longer than I expected.  But what do you expect when I kill at least 30% of the living things I bring within the borders of my domicile?  Good thing Charlemagne is so resilient.

I'm continuously working on my container gardens which is about three years from looking like this:
via Living Arrangements
Just put things in a pot, they said!  Let nature do the work, they said!  

They are more monstrous than the almost-callouses on my hands!  I'm stuck even finding cute containers to put things in.  No wonder people use old wheelbarrows and shit.  Vessels are expensive.

Unless you can just use what you have laying around or stolen from a nearby renovation project!

The worst part of this crime is how much effort you can tell they put into it.  You know in their heads they thought "Hmm, in what way can I upcycle these toilets in a really fun but MODERN way...??"

But terrible doesn't always have to be on such a grand, shit-tastic scale.

I'm all for DIY - I gave perms to my mother starting at the age of 11 and I was awesome at it.  But we can just say no, sometimes.  Neon, unlike wine, doesn't make everything better.

I swear to gawd if I see a toilet planter with some neon triangles painted on it, so help me...

So this is why I've gathered all the best DIY concrete planters on the interwebz that you could feel safe doing and not feel my wrath.


That was a Wrath of Khan joke but it probably doesn't read as well as it played out in my head.
Martha Stewart here
First off, Martha Stewart can never steer your wrong.  Make these handsome fellows out of giant metal mixing bowls and some concrete.  Oh Martha, you need to keep your hands off our dating sites and stick to what you know best: crafts and cold, hard concrete.  

(Like your heart)

(Possibly vagina)

Martha Stewart here
I don't even care if you do have a rigid and grey vagina because these faux bois planters are sexy.

Or if you want something smaller, there's always the milk carton versions which is the same process as when you made plaster vases in vacation bible school when you were five except there was sooo much glitter and pipe cleaners and the red paint that ran on the tables like rivers of blood and then the jeezus face sticker the teacher had to put on there for you because it was the Fourth of July and it's jeezus's favorite holiday, y'all, and omigawd I have VBSPTSD...
Martha Stewart here
But these are toootally different...  You can even make them for Satan if you want.  I don't care.

Or you can always jazz 'em up a bit like these:

Apocalyptic vessels from Big Red Sun via 2Modern
Don't forget to use your Gatorade bottles and Fabuloso containers to get some groovy, well... grooves.
via Rad Megan
A jeezus sticker would really fuck up the vibe, here.

via Ideas
What kind of terrible, chemical-laden liquid do I have to ingest to get some pretty ridges like those??
buy them on Oh Laszlo's etsy
Of course you can always just keep the milk cartons but add some pizzazz!  Or neon if you were so inclined which of course you are.  Maybe even a bit of pastel.  I don't know your life.

But if you're like me, the thought of making things with concrete seems... motherfucking heavy.  I've actually been collecting these tutorials since last Fall thinking I'll make some planters before the Spring but AHAHAHAHAHA I'm lazy.  My biceps aren't ready.

However, according to Martha Stewart and a bunch of people on Pinterest that are smarter than me, we aren't limited to a material with the density of a black hole.  

Enter hypertufa.  It sounds like an ancient Egyptian drag queen but apparently it looks like this:
via Magia Mia
But is lightweight and made of fairy dust or Martha Stewart queefs or something.

Lowe's tutorial and even a video
I don't know... a lot of the above Martha Stewart containers were made with it and Lowe's has a  tutorial too.  I think this might be the future.

Until I start a strict meth diet, I'll probably not get around to making any of these but I really hope you do.  Maybe even go crazy and do this one:
via Centsational Girl
Send pictures because that looks really hard and I'm not sure a real human can do it.

Maybe I'll just do this:

It's the hippie crystal votive holder version of the toilet.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

You can't spell vacation without Doritos Locos Tacos and hippie crystals.

So I took a little break but I'm back now.  I know every post in the last three months starts like that but I was literally on vacation so it was legit this time and not before where I was just napping and drooling a lot while on Pinterest too much.

Let's catch up on some things and I'll tell you about me and then you tell me about you.  As long as 'you' doesn't involve going on a real vacation to some resort somewhere involving saltwater and good hair in which case you should just unfollow this blog post haste because your cute beach bangs are pissing me off already.

I had a half vacation/half staycation last week which is like the half-caf of holidays and just as douchey.  For the half vacation part I ventured to the heart of the South, my dear neighbor and inbred cousin, Alabama.  There I partook of lots of fun Alabama things like hugging people, thrifting, drinking, watching Netflix, drinking and looking at trailers.  

That's almost exactly like my staycation now that I think about it...

But there was one spot that I visited that felt special and think you would like. 

I spent a lazy Sunday morning at The Overall Company which is a great little coffee house slash house of hipster jizz and antiques and amazing things.

Way to go, Alabama.  Chattanooga is jealous.
I told you it was a special place.  And not special like the It's Fashion I went to either last week which was special but in a different way.  Special because I felt like a pioneer blazing a trail to a place I'd never been before which was confirmed by the rainbow of colors and the sales associate when she straight up asked "You... haven't been here before, have you?"

To which I adjusted my nerd girl glasses and said indeed I hadn't.  I don't know how she could tell.  But the jokes on her because I bought two dresses and DON'T YOU JUDGE ME EITHER THEY'RE CUTE.

But not as cute as this place.  

A spider also floated down from the ceiling as I was in the dressing room of It's Fashion so... there's that.

But I had a live cockroach fall out of a shirt I was trying on at a Marshall's one time so I think the real lesson here is stop being such a cheap bitch and go to a gawddamned mall  where there are nicer stores like Forever 21 and Rack Room Shoes.

The staycation part of my adventure was really exciting as well.  Between dealing with the torturous pain of an oncoming zit on the side of my nose and cleaning out my closet, I felt exactly like how Kim Kardashian must feel all the time: like a queen.  

Of terrible things.  AKA Kanye West.

But I soon forgot my pain because I had more important things to attend to...

...and Benedick Cumbersnatch did not disappoint.  (My snatch)

I'm the lamest vacationer ever but this is what happens when you're poor and don't plan well.

And when I wasn't shifting uncomfortably in my seat thinking about Star Trek, I had a full Game of Thrones marathon that involved lots of Cool Ranch Doritos tacos and a not-surprising lack of pants.

I think I cried y'all.  That shit was intense.  I even had to sit down my taco for a few moments.

But on to shit that you really care about - I'm growing my nails out like it's 2012!

I'm on my way to looking like this:

The cashier at EarthFare and I had a deep and involved conversation over my organic beans about the pointed nails and she, having had them before, told me they were great.  

Modern manicures.  It takes a village, y'all.

In other important black events (please don't make an It's Fashion joke - that's racist), I think it's time we start defacing some statues:

These are from a Danish artist Uncle Allan but I bet we could DIY these with some fake limoges from the thrift store and some evil intentions.  Pinterest would probably weep and I would laugh and laugh.

But if that kind of DIY scares you because you're a tiny little crying baby then may I introduce you to my other DIY project that I'm totally gonna do soon...

Like right now...

After I watch this episode of Game of Thrones...

I've been squeeing hard at all of the Ashely G stuff at Urban Outfitters.  Don't judge.

I think it's cute but I don't want to sleep with it - I think it would give me indigestion - BUT...  I was kinda tempted to cut it up and wrap a canvas with it.  Maybe shellac it or some shit.  I don't know.  I'm pretty sure I could probably PAINT something for less money but that sounds like it would involve more effort on my part and I just have to click that one Paypal button...
But I can't make her jazzy pillow so maybe I'll just stick with this lesser priced option that requires no work.

I kinda want to buy said pillow and these Mellby chairs from IKE-Rah for my living room...

They look super IKE-Rah here but are much nicer in person.  Well...  

They're not grey but actually black and white houndstooth which isn't as bad as this swatch makes it look.

Do we still buy furniture from the Swedish gawds?  Do you think it's made of horse?  I don't really have the energy to craigslist for the next 12 months and then reupholster that shit so I'm thinking the Swedes might be winning this deal.  

I'll keep looking for pillows.  And chairs.  I'm sure I'll make a decision soon in June of 2015.

But one thing I AM sure about is all the quartz I've been creaming my panties over.

I want a million of you.
Ebay has a ton of these quartz goodies for relatively cheap ($23) however you do have to pay shipping from China ($14) so I'm not sure if that works out good but I think you're still better than whatever Z Gallerie junk might be available.

And then our bathrooms might look like this:

That's looks like how I want my vacations to feel.  When I have money one day.

Only thing that could make that better would be if it was in my house and had one of these on the shelf:

My guests would be so scared they might pee before they even make it to the toilet.

Worth it.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Let's talk Tilda.

Some people follow Kim Kardashian and her perfect face contouring like a cult and then there's the rest of us.

The rest of us with our normal boneless cheeks and sagging jowls need an androgynous weirdo to worship.  *enter Tilda Swinton stage left riding a baby dragon and reading a newspaper*

Tilda's such a badass who gives less than zero fucks.  Negative fuckitude.  

Sometimes she sleeps in a glass box for ART.  I think she's an alien fairy that rides cyclones for fun.  

AND I heard that even though she's married she has a hot young boyfriend that travels with them on family vacations and shit.  *raises eyebrows*  I just KNOW there are strap-ons and crying involved.  (Maybe her boyfriend's name is Cyclone...?!)  I have a good sense about these things.  I'm really good at deciphering kinks.  

Well other than gay stuff and people with foot fetishes...  

And people into clown sex, infantilism, Furries.... ok pretty much I can only tell kinks that might possibly involve me and even then I'm like, "what am I supposed to do with lederhosen and a dozen jelly donuts but okay you bring the baby wipes."

I'm totally kidding.  

I of course already have baby wipes.

ANYhosen, when someone in my Tilda network of devotees sent me this link to her spread in May's W magazine I had a moment.

Gawd, I want to go to there so bad...
This is how I imagine I look like walking around my house.  DON'T YOU?  Imagine yourself, that is.  Don't imagine me cuz that's weird and creepy.

But then I had another moment because this place looked familiar to me and not just because of the hallucinations.  Turns out, the location for this shoot is something I blogged about several years ago!  I'm a trendsetter!

Long time readers may (probably not) remember Los Pazos in Mexico built by eccentric, surrealist weirdo Edward James.  Relive the magic (and nudity) here.  He already sounds just like Tilda.

Vintage picture of "Stairway to the Sky"
Some dude named Jacob K styled the shoot and probably read my blog and didn't credit me with giving him the great ideas but whatever.  It's cool.

Gowns work great in the jungle of weirdo love.  Good job, Jacob K.  

Here's Tilda contemplating weirdness (and what she's going to do to her young manfriend later tonight) in a different gown while in quantum flux.

This space is known as the "Cinema structure with the double staircase."  Looks so empty and lifeless without Tilda who I'm not even really sure is actually alive...

The top picture is from W and the bottom is a vintage photo of the entrance to Edward's living quarters.  I bet Tilda did something really artistic and/or perverted up in there.

But in a gown.

This could be Tilda's O face but she's most likely sending out a mating call to other aliens on our planet in a frequency us humans just can't hear.  

You may only approach Tilda if you've dipped your entire arm in a sterile vat of fairy piss before being coated in powdered Smurf clay.

It is physically impossible to complete a fashion editorial shoot without including an all white, albino alien look.  It cannot be done.  You can Snopes it.

I'm actually terrified of her now but really in love with her finger jewelry so I'm willing to overlook this.  Also, I'm trying to be nice so we can work out a timeshare for Los Pazos and maybe even her hot young boyfriend.

I'll bring the donuts and baby wipes if he can swipe a few gowns for me.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

I had the authentic Popeyes experience in New Orleans.

Y'all, I returned from New Orleans and managed to keep my dignity!  (If you don't count the fervor in which I feasted beignets.)  Besides, I didn't want to inflict another devastating tragedy on the city by flashing them just for some shitty jewelry.  

Despite having been born in Louisiana, I'd never been to New Orleans before. When an opportunity presented itself for a long weekend visit I figured why the fuck not?!  Spicy is obviously in my blood so a return to my homeland seems like an important life point or something like that I got a free hotel room okay.

It was a surprisingly easy eight hour drive made quicker by the Boston marathon bombing manhunt that captivated our attention for five hours.  Thanks, NPR.  

We did break for some barbeque at The Shed in Mississippi thanks to an internet friend's recommendation.  

It was nothing but a giant leaking shack made my redneck hippies and their scavenged junk...

...where they played blues and served delicious animal meats.  Y'all people really get me.  Thank you.

Most impressive display of bottle trees I've seen in a long time.  No haints were coming near this place.

But apparently lots of small children were...??

I figured at this point, the trip was worth it in itself even if New Orleans turned out to be full of douchebags with fishbowl drinks.  I have a weakness for Southern eccentricity and shoddy vernacular architecture.

I'd never really had a strong desire to go to New Orleans.  In my mind it was nothing but zydeco and drunk boobs in an endless Zatarain's commercial and as much as I enjoyed processed carbs in a box, that's my 9th circle of personal hell.  

Fortunately it wasn't at all like that.  Although I did see a fair amount of girls in brand new, painted on Forever 21 dresses teetering on impossible stilettos down cobblestone streets, I really had to applaud their determination.

I hadn't been out past 11 PM in probably two years but I once we got to town I put on my big girl party panties (and sensible shoes) to pretend I like to have fun.

And newflash to the girl that calls watching all of SNL a late night, I did have a lot of fun.

I met some internet people and here was some really phenomenal music that included but wasn't limited to these white dudes.  All the bars felt just like college - everything was sticky and there were no chairs except for waaaay in the back where old people* were making out.

*hookers AKA 'ladies of the night' because we're in NOLA so they're fancy.

Surprisingly one place even had a crackhead bathroom attendant which squirted the only soap in the facility into my hands therefore forcing me to tip her.  At the very least she could have attended to wiping down the brown-stained bathroom stall that my elbow accidentally brushed while I was trying to balance during a squat pee while holding my purse in my mouth.  But alas, she was too busy sleeping and dispensing watery soap at people.

Ahhh... college memories, y'all.

We mixed in a little shopping between bars because TAKE ALL MY MONIES, STRANGE CITY!

Now you're speaking my language.

This is the Frenchmen Art Market which probably makes all tourists squee their panties including this one.

It really was cute, y'all.  No frontin.' 

After midnight shopping - my favorite kind - and dancing I worked up an appetite and the only logical place to go was the purveyor of famous New Orleans coffee and beignets: Cafe Du Monde.  The place where all the employees looked like Waffle House waiters in Steak 'n Shake uniforms.

It was kinda charming except for the dirty truck stop bathrooms.

Or BECAUSE of the dirty truck stop bathrooms...??  I like a seedy city so these things aren't necessarily deterrents for me, just observations to give you the complete experience. 

At 1 AM we managed to avoid the usual line of 50+ people during the day which was mind boggling considering it was kinda dirty and depressing and everything you touched was coated in powdered sugar grime.  But now I can mark it off my travel bucket list I guess.

It was good but in all honesty, all beignets taste like square funnel cake pillows to me so I'm obviously not a connoisseur of pastries.  But I AM a connoisseur of carnival food sold out of a trailer!  So just get your fried dough from anywhere where you don't have to wait an hour in line.  My travel pro tip to you.

At another establishment where I ordered beignets (FOR COMPARISON) and they scooped the powdered sugar from a giant Rubbermaid garbage can on wheels and it was the best thing I'd ever seen and then put in my mouth.

For a square funnel cake pillow, that is.

On Saturday I spent the day doing my favorite tourist activity: walking around alone until my feet fall off and I run out of money.

Is this Disneyland?

Who cares?!  It was delightful!

I spent all day in the French Quarter trying to reconnect with my spicy roots and loved every corner and street and twist and turn OF MY ANKLES.  Seriously, bring your orthotics.  Beautiful historic buildings = bone cracking historic sidewalks.

Hey Lacy, would you like to visit some nice plantations and beautifully restored homes in the area?

Hell naw.  But this abandoned alley looks really nice.

I must say how surprised I was at how colorful the buildings were.  I assumed everything would be vomit brown (to hide the, uh... vomit) but it was like a Skittles everywhere I went.  It might be terrible for your eyes the morning after Mardi Gras but stone sober me found it refreshing.

Probably some famous building that I don't know...

Probably another famous building.  I don't know, I was just going bananas for all the greenery on the porches.  Probably not the correct architectural term for that either but I wasn't really trying to be all nerd about this thang.

Secret courtyards?!  My favorite kind.  If you didn't have me at the pastries and voodoo, now you really sealed the deal, New Orleans.

Details are important.

Other than me playing around with this iPhone filter and a head shop I visited, I didn't get to do anything remotely voodoo-related which is a terrible disappointment.  I had at least hoped for a chicken sacrifice or reenactment of The Skeleton Key but NOTHING.  

Of course it wasn't all Santeria and possessed Kate Hudsons, we're still in the South.

Tell me where you've seen a mosaic tiled Christ this good?!

I did had a few culinary moments that I swear came straight from Jeebus, though.  Although I didn't get any traditional gumbo or jambalaya, I did have amazing breakfasts which sounds lame but it's my favoritest meal of the day.  I find good eggs and buttery toast to be transcendent but maybe it's just me.

One notable restaurant adventure was Butcher.

It says 'sWINE BAR & DELI.'  I see what you did there, Butcher, and I like it.  Pork and wine and a play on words.  It doesn't get much better than that.

No trip to New Orleans is complete without visiting a few cemeteries and I certainly communed with the dead plenty.  Hell, I do that at home fairly often.

In fact, I lurked and photographed dead people's houses so much that I'll have to save all my cemetery pictures for a completely separate post.  

You're welcome.

I'm going to lose my super dope street cred by telling you this but we ended our trip with some culture by going to the art museum's sculpture garden.

And it was magnificent.  And free.  And there were beignets. 

That we ate here because hell yeah we did.  

Forgot the artist... sorry.

Forgot... my bad.

Rona Pondick
Obviously I'm really into some shiny shit underneath some Spanish moss.  And monkeys with human limbs...?

Robert Indiana
It was a really short and hardly planned weekend trip but it turned out fantastic.  I loved the city more than I thought even though my feet ached and all I ate for three days was breakfast and a pound or two of powdered sugar from a garbage can.  

It's like if Savannah and Paris had a gay, alcoholic baby raised on soul food and glitter it would be New Orleans.  How could I not love that?

And I only heard zydeco one time and that was coming out of a white dude's Land Rover at a stop light.   

Well played, New Orleans.  Well played.