closet confidential

HA...

It's no secret that I like to fill up my closet with items that I'll wear once or just never wear at all (this sounds more pretentious than it really is...everyone does it). So I will go and shop to my heart's content, bring home new purchases only to admire them or save them for special ocassions that never come to pass. All of my obsession with new clothing got me to thinking about "going out tops."

Let me start by saying, I loathe that terminology. Hmmm..."go-ing-out-tops." I hear this so much when I'm out shopping. Ladies vere off on their own mission then return to their shopping buddy, who is on the same mission, and engage in a conversation that sounds somewhat like this:

shopper a: Oh my god...isn't this cute? Oh my god, it's not even that expensive. So worth it. You know, you can never have enough GOING OUT TOPS!
shopper b: Totally..
shopper a: Because, seriously, I get so tired of spending a lot of money on GOING OUT TOPS. I just want like enough to last me for awhile.
shopper b: I know exactly what you mean...I go through the same thing alllll theeee tiiiime
shopper a: I just need like one GOING OUT TOP for tonight--something really cute and sexy, but not slutty, you know?

These conversations can last forever it sometimes seems. I mindlessly thumb through racks--not paying attention to what I'm picking up--and listen to these sort of girls. After a while I begin to make faces, roll my eyes, mumble under my breath and think "why...why...why must this broad keep saying GOING OUT TOPS?" I try desperately not to let this crap pharse slip from my lips. It just sounds so ridiculous. And really, what is a going out top? I usually think of some in a visually offensive color--bright green, hot pink, colbat blue, gold. But sometimes they are black. And often, a GOING OUT TOP is adorned with some cheap garb meant to boost the calibur of the top and make it seem much more exciting than it is--things like: glitter, rhinestones, metallic threading, beads, fancy ties. And you'll find a GOING OUT TOP in the as a halter cut, tube top (ugh), deep-v tank top, off-the-shoulder top and --my favorite--the neckline that plunges down to the belly button (sick).

I will not lie, I have "evening tops," but none of the above and I don't go out with friends shopping for GOING OUT TOPS--which I am beginning to believe is code for "I'm looking for a cheaply made top, perhaps something that will make my breasts look bigger, in a bright color. Something that will attract a sleeze ball, get me a few free drinks and radiate on my myspace page when I post my new photos on Sunday." oh GOING OUT TOP...

and the oscar goes to....

Coming to the realization that I have just spent the last 4 hours of my life watching "the biggest night in Hollywood," is somewhat disturbing. I've just used of 4 useful hours,that I won't be getting back, watching people collect naked, bronze statues. I decided this evening, about half way through the program, that the Oscars are boring. They are boring in a Saks Fifth Avenue sort of way. It seems glamorous, people always rave about it, it's a big deal within it's world, but at the end of the day it's dull.

I didn't see very many of the nominated films this year, so I prided myself on watching for the fashion. It was much better than the 2005 Oscars...gasp. Cameron Diaz looked a dream and Reese was a gem. I'm sure my gossip blogs will be all about the Oscars and the drama of post-ceromony parties (Vanity Fair) tomorrow. I have nothing to say about winnings. I though they were fair and rightly distributed. Actors work hard--they also play hard, get paid well, and rack up loads of free stuff in the week before the event.

The Oscars bore me. I'll watch next year, comment on the dresses, the movies and no doubt, complain that I have waisted four (or more) hours of my life. The end.

happy burfday, chuntress (belated)

happy birthday chuntress...you hot slut







I'm such a bad parent. If my blog were my child it would probably be suffering from third degree burns, hungry, crying, and preparing for a life of therapy (that insurance will not cover). So bring on the beta-blockers for my blog, because it's parent is a day late on wishing it's sexy lil' ass a happy birthday!!!! Who's bringing me cupcakes?


*This is worse than that stupid bear who wanted to tell the moon happy birthday...you can't give the moon a hat, loser. The same way that I can't give me blog a birthday party--I'm always looking for a reason to party...

do you promise to love your sushi until death do you part?

I had the pleasure of joining Blaura, her new hubby David, their friend Mike and Ms. Leslie for an evening of sushi (on the really hot plates Leslie and I got them for their wedding). No, we didn't go out to some fancy Japanese resty and order to our tummy's content. Instead we made sushi ourselves. I have to say this has got to be one of my new favorite activities! I can't wait to get myself a rolling mat and go to town...Watch out Sushi Roku! I'm really good at making sushi--David can attest to that.

This was my first meal with Laura and David since their wedding. I was lucky enough to enjoy two pre-ceromonial meals. And this one was super exciting because their super hot (and black) dog, Oscar joined, we talked and laughed a lot, David informed me (because he's the best pilot ever) that "if shit goes wrong at take-off you're fucked," and Laura played the banjo...talent, she's got it.

Reader, you never see me getting mushy. You've seen me strange, emotional, cryptic, charming, psychotic, and obnoxious, but never mushy. Well Laura and David make me full mushy (they must be magic). They're very happy and very cute...and I feel genuine happiness for them. They are so much fun to be around and I'm sure that because they make their own sushi their love will last forever. Even though I'm late I still have to say it...HAPPY WEDDING LAURA AND DAVID!

choice language of champions

I'm convinced that a short month robs bloggers of the will to post---makes them lose motivation. That drive, that deep burning desire to blog is somehow lost...or bloggers are too busy boozing and bitching verbally to scribe all of those fascinating things going on in their lives, non?

So anyhoo (mmm), I'm back, in full force pulsating with positive (ha) energy. As you, my dear readers, know I am absolutely taken by the opposite sex. I love the manipulate my situations with men, laugh about them, cry about them, analyze them, and go on about how things "could've happened." And as most of you know I like to give most of the men in my life pseudonyms---It makes things more interesting. Real names are boring and I hate boring.

That said, real chitter chatter with men is on the edge of boring. Thanks to carefully studying the language of guys I have decided to adopt that language and begin talking to them they way they talk to me (or us if you've ever experienced this). A few choice phrases include (but are not limited to):

a) You're so yummy (smile)
b) Get your sexy lil' ass over here (with a somewhat disgusted look on your face--as though you're annoyed)
c) You don't even know what you're doing to me right now, it's fuckin' crazy
d) I'm just so into it (said while biting lip)
e) Ugh. I just love your face
f) Yeah I bet (to follow a statement that he's made...make him seem really special and be sure to cut your eyes at him when saying this)
g) Let me look at you
h) --silence-- (it's so very male and so very golden)

*feel free at any time to add "right now." this makes everything so in the moment and they will love it.

I imagine that most men will be put off by this language and will, in turn feel challenged (which I guess is ok). But just think of how much fun it will be to watch a man react to this shit? I mean they want us to swoon (Clueless speak) over this sort of thing, so are we ladies wrong for wanting the same thing? I'll report back and tell you how my "sexylil' ass" is doing with this new "venture."


*do you think this kind of behavior explains why i'm still single? i vote yes...hahaha

yeah girl...

I strolled into work today after a very eventful weekend. A part of me is still riding the weekend wave. I had a visitor--Shena. I've spoken of her in the past, you're familiar.

I haven't had that much fun in San Francisco since...ever! As always we brought the crazy in high doses. Going to a bar in blonde wigs and false eyelashes had to be most notable event of the weekend...that is if you don't include calling Shena's ex (who we secretly believe is God), having a cuddle night with Hotender, Fag Friday's at the End Up, singing Mickey Avalon incessantly, photo shoots in the bathroom of that Ambassador, Pulp Fiction and Coronas, delirium at the sight of Saturday morning cartoons, considering a GG Bridge jump, and talking enough shit to fill the sewers of San Francisco. Below are a few photos for your enjoyment. I must say, I was really sad for her to leave. You know that I get sad when my guests leave. But this time I felt like a "liddo" piece of me was gone. I love my friend...because she's a "not a Marina gal!

mmm mmm mah baby's got a secret

I'm obsessed with secrets. I can't keep them, that's for sure. I guess this makes sense seeing as how I wake up in the morning ready for my gossip fix. I type fiercely waiting to read about someone's private moments and watch them spill all over the 'net in a matter of minutes.

Since we're talking secrets today, I have a few to share. My first, I love swag...but is that really a secret? Who doesn't lust for free stuff? It's become my new found hobby to find a product or location I like and manage to get it or tests its services free of charge. I do it with a smile and that charm that you all have come to adore (wink)--there it is again. Of course all of this is in the name of business so it really isn't as "low class" as it could be.

My other secret, I am so interested in celebrity sex tapes that I don't know what to do with myself. I don't consider this porn. Porn isn't nosey, celebrity sex tapes are. Celebrity sex tapes are unforgiving, strategically marketed, and so invasive--porn is not. I never had the chance to see "One Night in Paris" and I don't think I want to. I might catch something. But I did watch the Collin Farell tape...HA. And most recently, I watched the trailer for Kim Kardashain's tantilizing tape. HA. I love it. Some of the things these people say is crazy. I end up repeating it for days and laughing hysterically with each utterance. "Oh yes, you are my breakfast, lunch, and dinner darling" as said by Mr. Farell. I'm not a weirdo, just into other people's secrets.

I don't have many secrets. I have a big mouth so most people know everything about me. I like it that way. My sex tapes won't end up on the internet (*that was just for fun, I have no sex tapes)

dlisted quote of the day

Ok, so I know I owe my beloved (3) readers a real post, but I'm riding the "dlisted train" and good 'ol Michael K. made another comment that has me rolling on the floor with laughter. I live for this...

It's sick, but oh so funny. FYI: he's talking about Christian Aguilera and her fug hubby having "naked Sunday's" where they cook naked well, because it's Sunday.

"Cook naked? I’m all for romance, but I’m also all for not having pubes in my sketti. Unless they are both fans of the NADS, I’m not into that. Hell no. The only time I want to be pulling pubes out of my teefs is when I’m working the skin sausage if I ain’t being too subtle."

--Michael K.


hahaha...teefs, sketti, skin sausage...the utterings of a skilled linguist

dlisted quote of yesterday

"Honestly, I'd rather stick a curling iron up my ass, turn it on, and open it than hit that."

--Michael K

Yeah, it's sick, but scathlingly hilarious.

je besion de s'enfuir paris

This is my 100th post here on Chuntress...exciting, huh?

Well it's odd that today, I'm my 100th post, I'm feeling the most numb. I've been going on for a while now about how I should run away. Well I haven't publicly stated this on "le blog," but I've made mention to those in my immediate friend circle. I think running away would do me some good. I'm at a strange point where I love my lifestyle some days, but other days I hate it--the partying, the emptiness, the loneliness, the bad finances, my decisions, my living situation, my new found objectification of men--all of it. I stand by previous posts, I, Black Swan, will run away to Paris.

In other news, I've discovered a new love in music, Amy Winehouse. She's soulful, retro, real, and peculiar all at the same time. I suggest you give her a listen. Her music has made me nostalgic for a life I've never lived. I really don't think anything is wrong with wanting to revamp your life. Why not now? I'm on the brink of my mid-twenties (and I feel it everyday), I have no real commitments, and I should do as much as I can in this life. I'm starting my change next week with a haircut...minus 2 inches. Methinks this will be tres chic--indicative of a new me.

Happy 100th post to me, le chuntress...

Paris will receive me well (HA).