Street Teaming

Did anyone see Death Wish? If not, you need to see all three of them immediately. For your sanity, not mine.

So first off...did everyone in the internet die? There's tumbleweed blowing around. Sarah Morrison is posting five blog entries a day...probably to cope. Should I prepare to attend internet funerals? I have a nice pretty red dress for the occasion. Like, a minidress is conservative, right?

I can't stand this anymore. The idea (and the reality) that some fucking kids have my property and my life and didn't work for any of it. They won't give two shits if anything happens to my planner (which has everything I do and all my numbers and business cards in it. I haven't been able to keep my shit together and I'm scheduling appointments on top of appointments because of it. My Cal State student ID was in that planner as well as really important phone numbers.) or my Zune (which is the first expensive thing I ever bought with my own money. It was 250.00 and I had to take other people's shifts when I was working for minimum wage at Sanrio to pay for it.). That pisses me off.

Because I don't feel like they just took my car. I feel like they took some of my life. They damn sure took my personal property, but they also took my peace of mind, my trust, and my future. I was supposed to drive that car to CA and keep it until I could afford to buy one for myself. That car was paid in full. It was an investment. And those fucking kids don't care.

So I'm taking matters into my own hands. The police aren't doing shit. Nobody else in my life (my mother aside) cares about this car half as much as I do. So I'm going to rely on strangers a little bit. Because, honestly, will it hurt? I'm going Charles Bronson on these motherfuckers.

I'm posting flyers for my car all through East Atlanta. I know you girls aren't in ATL but anyone who wants to help, please contact me. Le sigh. This is not how my life is supposed to be. I should be excited to move, and looking forward to buying new clothes for the new school year. But instead I'm saving up in the event that I have to start putting payments on another car. It's soooo fucked up.

These stupid kids fucked me and I'm going to try my damnedest to fuck them back.

Deuces,
Erika

Oh...Fuck

It is currently 3:13 am. I saw Wolf Parade at the Variety Playhouse earlier tonight. I wish I could have some really clever, really witty, fucking funny shit to talk about. But I don't.

At 8:00 pm my boyfriend and I parked my car on Sinclair Ave. We saw Wolf Parade and had a fucking great time. By the end of the night, the Playhouse crowd was a hot clusterfuck that smelled like weed (no one shared, thx), sweat, and insert your town here's state fair port-a-potty. People were bumping up against me like some kind of perpetual clothes-on orgy. After the show we ran in April, this really cool chick we know, and invited her to launch fireworks with us. Nice.

Around 12:00 am, with my spirits higher than a kite and a huge grin on my face, I walked down Sinclair Ave, talking with my bf. After awhile he stopped me and said, "Wait, did we park this far down the street?"

Soooo like I said, I wish I could have a funny, awesome story to tell you about Wolf Parade but I don't. Well, I do, but I won't.

Because my fucking car got stolen tonight. You girls don't reside in ATL so no one knows about Little Five Points. It's a shopping/residential area smack dab in the middle of East Atlanta. It's a fucking nice area. So it's like having your car stolen from one of the side streets at the Beverly Center.

My Zune is gone. My planner is gone. My notebook is gone. My H&M purse is gone. All my gift and membership cards are gone. My Burberry umbrella is gone. My radio is gone. My favorite CDs are gone. About $8.00 is gone. My fucking car is gone. And I am fucking pissed.

Sigh...Ay Dios Mio. I know this probably won't help things but if anyone sees a 1999 white Jeep Cherokee Sport with black trim, tag number 908 NNY, Gwinnett County, bumper stickers on the trunk, a Hello Kitty antenna topper, and loose front bumper, please report it to the fucking police. I just want my car back.

I really hate life sometimes.

Deuces,
Erika

My Significant Other Right Now Is Myself

Okay. I'm sort of an earring fiend. If I had the money to cop a pair of Cubannie Links, I would do it in a heartbeat. I love earrings, and have been on the ongoing and seemingly neverending search for a pair of serious doorknockers. Maybe this is easy in New York, where Canal St. and Chinatown proffer up anything from t-shirts to televisions to knockoff bags and the tiny puppies that go in them, but in Atlanta seriously dope jewelry on a broke ass (but still fly) chick's budget is pretty hard to come by.

So I've been stalking all the Forever 21's I can find (I'm up to four so far) for badass earrings. You know, F21 makes really good ones. They're light and cute and cheap so you don't feel incredibly awful for losing the backs to them or leaving them at someone's place, or anything like that. My recent obsession has been a pair of F21 earrings that are like, the cutest things ever:

Adorable! And only 4.80! They're the ish! I'm wearing them here.

So when I went to TN this past weekend, we stumbled on a store called For Love 21, which is apparently some kind of F21 jumpoff store, the likes of which we have none in Atlanta. And it was there that I finished collecting all of the above earring styles. I now have them in pink, black, yellow, and white.

I believe that is what we like to call doing the damn thing. Now I'm on to my new obsesh. The clerk at For Love was wearing them when she checked me out. I haven't found them yet, but I will. I will:

They're zebra print and only 3.80. Animal prints make me tingle. Earrings make me tingle. Sometimes I tingle for no reason.

Anyone else harboring mad jewelry or clothing obsessions that make them rethink to what exactly they put their paycheck each month? Because, while sometimes it's nice to chat about politics, current events, the economy, and the modern woman's role in society, I like to talk about stuff.

Deuces,
Erika

Whoa, I'm Like...Um...Kinda Cool?

I won't even belabor the fact that I still go on Myspace. You guys know. All of you should be my friends. Jess Fletch and Alex are. V will never be, because she was smart enough to stay away from that virtual black hole before she and her blossoming social life could get sucked into it like Kool-Aid through a makeshift grape flavored Twizzler straw.

But apparently I am making some kind of internet killing. I am now a part of the Hottest and Coolest Ladies of Myspace. Whoa. I am fifth out of 30 ladies. I guess that is kind of cool, but also really intense.

It's hard at the top. The air is thin, so you have to add extra minutes to your recipe's baking time (there's always a lemon bar floating around my place!), and sometimes people who don't even know your last name hate you, so you have to kill them, and it gets kind of lonely so you have to masturbate more often, which requires an inhaler because you cough a lot since the air is thinner.

But then when you look out over the mountain top into the golden horizon, you feel okay, because you made it, albeit scratched up, bloody, bruised, and still trying to stop picking your scabs, in one piece. Which is cool, because a lot of people fall apart way down at the bottom while your sipping your bubbly, eating pigs 'n a blanket, and watching Super Troopers.

Myspace is weird. Word.

Deuces,
Erika

You're The Only Ten I See

Package stores that sell beer to nineteen year olds should be everywhere.

Ohmahgawd, I'm back again! It would seem that my recent hiatus has forced me to miss a lot of things on the Northern side of the Tennessee border: blog updates, comments...I came home to a bananas amount of emails. The movies I ordered came in the mail (Now I can finally say I OWN The Bad Seed and Mommie Dearest...rawwww!) And I don't even want to get into the treasure trove that is Missbehave right now...Gawd, two and a half days of Sarah Morrison posts that I didn't even get to comment on! (You guys know she's really a machine, right? You feed a thought, suggestion, or passing memory into her and she cranks out a really awesome blog post in three seconds flat!)

Honestly, TN was suuuuper boring. My friend lives in a fucking one-horse, Mayberry town where all they do is hang out in front of the one package store (because they know the guy and he sells cigs and beer to minors), or hang in this one kid's basement (where he lives, cos he's 19 and not going to college...we spent a lot of time in that place), or drive around and shit. Their convos consist of daily activities (once I picked up my friend's phone and the guy was like what're you doing? and I was like nothing, and he was like, I'm getting gas [for my car] and mentally I'm thinking, so fucking what?), and I was blessed with the beauteous ability to somehow always end up sitting near my friend and her boyfriend and listening to them make out. There's moaning involved. It makes me wince.

Oh yeah, they have sex there too. It's like a civic pastime. When my friend graduated from HS, there were only three known virgins in her class. Sex always comes up in convos and many of the jokes are sex related. My friend is always being made fun of by her bf because they haven't done it yet. I was revered/admired for not being a virgin. I think her bf is a dick. No, not even that. He was acting like a huge asshole. Immediately, I wanted to punch people. By the end of last night, around 2 am, when we were hanging in this kid's basement watching Alpha Dog (awesome movie) and smoking, I was feeling particularly stabby.

But then my friend and I stopped in Chattanooga on the way back to the ATL. That was mildly fun. We went to the candy store and listened to Shakira. I sang along. She laughed. The end.

Saw this gem in Nashville. You hook it up to the music on your computer (your iTunes library, etc.) via a USB cable and when you play music, the stripper girl starts dancing to it. The best thing about this? Marks & Spencer makes it.

I always go to the same place in Chattanooga: Market St. It's right next to the Art District, the Tennessee Aquarium, and this big walkable bridge thingy.
The mountains and such. When we drove through them and when my friend saw the FALLING ROCKS sign, she flipped out. I eventually calmed her down by quickly telling her that it just meant it was a possibility, not an inevitability.

The smoking mountains smoking appropriately.

Oh yeah! And we bought fireworks. Bad. Ass. Fireworks. Like the kind that say you have to have professional supervision because they involve flaming balls and such. We're lighting them very soon. Oh yeah, beer will most likely be involved. We do it to it, trust.

So that's about it. Oh and a very, very, VERY large and hearty "thank you" to Miss Sarah for holding it down and taking the Disco over in a most graceful, swift, and sophisticated manner during my absence. Much apreesh, girl. But alas, that is all the guest blogging we have time for! You're back to just listening to MY incoherent thought processes! But they'll be interesting, promise! I'm trying to fit mad amounts of fun into my life until I move up to LA and then start having some real fun as my and Valentina's mischief filled adventures will make you so jelz it hurts in that good place.

Mad Men season 2 premiere tonight! Now I'm going to finish all my candy. Mmm, sugar coma...bai!

Deuces,
Erika

Guestblogger: When Your Little Town Tries to Be Cool

(I'm not going to try to find different ways to say "guest blogger" anymore. It's getting hard, I give up.)

I live in a pretty low-key little town. It's not super-happening, but it's a great environment and I've been lucky to grow up in such a nice place.
But of course, it sucks when you can't find anything to do. Live music is usually local and the big bands that come here usually don't intrigue me much, so it can be entertaining when a commotion does indeed arise (Polyphonic Spree came here for free this spring, but I totally missed it!). But I've never had one that confused me as much as my city's pseudo-festival, DFEST.

I don't know why it confuses me. I guess it's because it's apparently into its seventh year, and up until last year, I had no idea it existed. There had been no hype about it before then, and there was basically only one great band, The Flaming Lips, the only band I saw. So I'm not really understanding how there's been this wannabe-Lolla under my nose all this time. My future magazine editor thinks Tulsa's going to be the new Austin, which I don't see happening so super-quickly.

But who knows? My city's really cute. It's got ghost-town hootspa, if such a thing exists. There's potential.

Plus, it's gonna be fun. I've already paid for my ticket so there's no looking back anyway. It'll be cool if the line-up gets bigger and better over the next few years so I can look at my hometown from wherever the hell I am and get a flash of pride, you know? It's no Austin City Limits, but it's home.

So my friend and I are going tonight! See anybody on here I should check out? We're for sure seeing The Roots, which is going to be kick-ass. We're also hitting up Here is There, who are some foxy boys who graduated from my school this year. I refuse to step anywhere near the All-American Rejects or Paramore. I think I'd rather take a pen and pop my own eardrum.

BTW, I think I might be the Peach Pitter from the smallest town, which is weird, cuz all us ladies are pretty damn cosmopolitan. Represent Peach Pit! If we were rich we'd have some bomb sleepovers. The oldest of you would be responsible for buying the bubbly, which would have to be real, because we're classy. And according to my mother I drink wines kinda pretentiously. I'm gonna be a wine connaisseur when I grow up.

Y Sarah

Guestblogger: Sociability & Me

Summer has always seemed to me like an unspoken social test. With all that freedom, what do you do? Who do you call? Or do you wait to be called to keep others from knowing how totally bored you are? Summer seems to kinda work like this for me.

I have personally never been big on the social front. I'm awkward, I think in a complicated branch system (which I didn't even know until my sister, who totally has ESP, told me) and I prefer being alone. I like to do what I want to, when I want to. I'm a natural loner and suck ass at making small talk. Most people and I don't click because I am a very weird person, and I'll admit it pretty proudly.
As most of you ladies here know, high school sucks. But there's a great time somewhere in those hellish four years that kids develop a talent of really starting to understand flaws around them. This happened to me a few summers ago, and I started to notice that people I obeyed were not always right, and your peers are not always real.
A few days ago I saw a post Valentina wrote about her feelings toward Brooklyn hipsters and it definitely struck a chord. Some of the people I choose to spend time with don't always feel like they're being genuine, and a lot of the time it seems they're trying to impress some invisible judge. I just don't get it. So because of this, I don't know how a lot of my so-called friends really feel about me. So there are two categories of said people in my life: some of these people I avoid, and those I spend time with, but don't invest much in to refrain from hurting myself. For instance, I thought about a friend I'm always with. I wondered if, given the choice to choose between me and what she thought was no doubt the coolest thing in the world, she would choose me. She's a self-proclaimed "indie kid" (*shudder*), so I thought, 'I doubt it' and put her into my latter category. This has been leading me to a bad case of disillusionment with people in general and a desire to get out of town and go to college.
But you know, it's nights like these that make me remember why I care about the people who give and get my love. I don't have a cavalcade of great friends-- I could probably count them on both hands, I'd say. And the ones I have are fantastic and get me, and I get them. They are real, so I don't really ever doubt their character. I'm anything but a social butterfly, but I'm lucky enough to ladies that I work with, and it's awesome.

I feel sorry for people who have to doubt their friends. I hope I head to a college where I don't have to. I'll probably pay extra and room alone, anyway. Fish and roomies stink in three days.

If you can't tell, I'm socially ambivalent. I take my free time like the temperature-- if it's too hot, I need something cool. If it's too cold, I need heat. I'm socially picky.

Anyone else like this?

Your antisocial amiga,
Y Sarah

P.S. If you can figure out what the picture's from, I'll give you a... picture. Of a cookie. A really good cookie.

Lifetime Honors Ma

In honor of Estelle Getty's timeless performance as Ma on Golden Girls, and her recent untimely passing, Lifetime is presenting a marathon of our favorite show, Golden Girls, beginning at noon today and ending at 5 pm. Don't sleep on it! Even though Ma is beyond awesome awesome, I love watching Rose...because I can relate to her so well!

Golden Girls marathon
12 pm - 5 pm
Lifetime

Thank you for being a friend!

Deuces,
Erika

Tilly And The Wall: The Aftermath

I took this picture two days ago, at sunset, while driving. I hear that's like, dangerous, or something. But it came out nice, and that's all I care about.

So as you all know, I went to see Tilly and the Wall tonight. Well, I should probably say last night, since it's technically the next day. And let me just say, being so young and all, I've usually felt like the youngest person at a show since most of the venues I frequent are a safe haven for High Life guzzling, high waisted skirt wearing, 23 and 24 year old hipsters. But for once, I actually felt old. There was just a spread of little hipsters in training, ranging from about 15 to maybe 17 at the oldest, that looked as if they'd raided every thrift store and Baby American Apparel in the area. It was almost sad. But mostly it was entertaining.

Anyway, I took mad amounts of pics and whatnot, so now you can feel like you got to rock out to Tilly with me! Even though you didn't.

First, my bf and I went to Village Pizza for early dinner. This is what it looked like. As usual I refused to talk while there was a camera on me. I always look stupid when that happens.


This is the Village Pizza bike, but they don't deliver with it anymore. They just get edgy hipsters to drive their Honda Accords to houses bearing pizzas.

After that, we headed over to the Variety Playhouse. That's when I ran into two people I went to high school with. Awkward...So after that I ran into the Coathangers before they took the stage. They said "hi" to me and then began speaking to me in warm, friendly tones which immediately made my bf look like a douche because he didn't believe that I knew them. I don't know why those red spots in the eyes are so obvious, but I look really flushed because it was pretty hot in that place.
Then there was a man running around, talking to members of the Coathangers, dancing with himself, funneling drinks, etc. He threw himself into the picture, very yearbook style.

After we shot snaps, the girls went on.

So then we saw the Ruby Suns, but none of the pictures turned out well, so I won't force you to strain your eyes and/or cock your head to the side at odd angles so they look okay. But I did talk to some kids about how sexy the drummer/lead vocalist was. The Ruby Suns had New Zealand accents, so all the girls were pretty much ready for marriage by the time they finished.

Then it was Tilly and the Wall!!! During the set transition, they played Justice and Outkast and yet the only two black people in there (i.e. us) were the ones dancing. People laughed at us though, with sort of envious smiles, like "Lord, why can't I dance that well and without inhibition?" But back to Tilly!!

The girls were so on point with their clothing, ya'll. I think I read somewhere that Peggy Noland and Mooka Kinney outfit them, so it makes sense.

After their set, the crowd continued to cheer and clap and make a ton of noise. See, it's a Variety Playhouse tradition for the band to leave the stage, then the audience keeps clapping and cheering, and the band comes back on to play one more song. Tilly and the Wall were no exception. They all came back out and played "The Freest Man" and then, my personal favorite, "Night Of The Living Dead," which I figured they HAD to play since it has a lot of lyrics about Atlanta. It was rad.

Oh yeah, sorry about how mildly blurry these pictures are. Then again, there's a reason I don't put "professional photographer" on my resume. Oh yeah, and in case anyone was wondering, I was wearing a high-waisted jumper, my homemade Coathangers shirt (yeah I actually made that shirt! And I always get queshes from people asking me where to buy it!), and pink sneakers from Urban Outfitters. I was pretty fucking hipster-ed out, son.

Oh! And that reminds me! I won't be here at The Disco for the weekend since me and my amiga are road-tripping to Tennessee to see one of my old high school friends. So until Sunday night, you guys'll just be hearing from Miss Lolita Hazed, but that's still a treat, right?

Catch ya'll mothasuckas on the motherflipping flip side!

Deuces,
Erika

Be Our Guest? -- Boys She Loves: Alan Ball

Well, okay, this can't exactly be Erika's "Boys I Love" because I'm obviously not Erika. But still!
(If you haven't noticed, I'm kinda going for different ways to say "guest blogger" in my intro, never to repeat one. I'll see if it's working. I get bored easily, if you can't tell.)
In my opinion, one of the hardest crushes to suffer is the classic brain-crush-- you know, an undeniable admiration of a person's traits that leads to big attraction. As an aspiring writer, mine, hopeless in all forms, is probably the super-talented raconteur Alan Ball. Why so hopeless? Well, two of several reasons include the following: I am a minor and he is gay. Very, very openly gay, apparently. Alas, this is not enough to stop me!
You may not know his name, but you probably know who he is-- most notably, he wrote the unforgettably twisted American Beauty, later to create my favorite now-defunct show Six Feet Under. So it's been a year or two since we've really had anything come from him, but 2008 seems like it'll be a pretty awesome year for the guy. First off, he's got a new series about vampires called True Blood, which'll be interesting and is coming up on HBO this fall. Secondly, and pretty much more importantly, he's making his directorial debut with the controversial Towelhead, out in September.
I could tell you honestly that this year I haven't looked forward to any movie (besides Dark Knight-- which is interesting, considering the Aaron Eckhart connection) as much as Towelhead. Alan has a talent for making almost any subject hilarious, heartbreaking and unforgettably compelling all at once. As a writer, he is someone I admire so highly and respect so immensely. It seems he is always attempting to challenge his audiences, and there's not one project I've seen him do that hasn't stirred something inside me. I have such creative faith in this man and really hope his movie will take him very far. Plus, I can't get the trailer out of my mind! Watch it below:

So I know this isn't usual Disco fare, but this movie is definitely going to be hard to sell because of its bold show of racism and sex in suburbia, so I really want to spread the word about it, especially cool cats like you guys! I know this movie will encourage viewers to think outside of themselves.
This man has such creative gumption. As silly as it may seem, I kinda think that through his constantly provocative storytelling, he could very well change the world.
And if I ever become a zombie, he's the first person I'm going after.

Y Sarah

Any of you ladies got a brain-crush?

Straight Representin'

Tonight I'm going to see Tilly and the Wall at the Variety Playhouse. I'm super stoked and you may be super jelz. But as stoked as I am to see Tilly, and the Ruby Suns, I'm even more excited about seeing the Coathangers.

I have seen the Coathangers live going on three times now and it's always eggpants awesome! (The Coathangers and the Black Lips, Snowden, the Selmanaires, Noot D'Noot, and DJ Treasure Fingers are the few acts that make me super proud to rep ATL!!!) They always put on a super fun show. I was at their album release party and awesomeness occurred: they offered me beer, gave me sparklers, and during their set they broke a piñata! Some candy went in the direction of this little toddler and then Julia Kugel, the lead singer, started shouting, "You almost hit a baby!!! You almost hit a baby!!! And there was a mini horse with a horn on his head!! Everyone was calling him a unicorn!!

See, nothing but fun with these guys. I saw them again at Record Store Day (did anyone go out to their city's RSD celebration? I loved mine...I got to see at least 10 bands and eat up hot dogs and pizza for free and then I bought some vinyl for about $4, and then Lillian gave me some MIA bandannas...it was rad!) and they totes did not disappoint. There was silly string and balloons and face masks...one of which they gave me, and then I got Stephanie Luke to sign my drumstick! Ha! Rusty Coathangers <3's me! Anyway, so this made me start thinking...sometimes when you're stuck in a place you're not really inclined to liking, music is like a temporary savior, right? So do you guys have any local bands that you get excited about and see lots and lots of times and sort of know and all that jazz?

And Mz. Sullivan, you can't answer because you've got Million Dollar Mano, Hollywood Holt, Cool Kids, and Kidz In The Hall in your neck of the woods and that's just unfair! Stupid Go-Ill killing the game right now...grumble, grumble, grumble. So talk about your local music scene! And then I will lord over you with my awesome ATL music scene! Yay! Upperhand!

P.S. And just in case you kinda think you might like the Coathangers, there are mp3's, the link to buy their album, and their music video below! Peace up A-Town down!

The Coathangers: "Shake Shake"
The Coathangers: "Don't Touch My Shit"

"Tonya Harding"


The Coathangers - "Tanya Harding" from ataricharm on Vimeo.

Deuces,
Erika

Plz Don't Get Silly-er

Christ. I heard some shitty rap awhile back, but I was sort of hoping that would be the last of awful club songs.

Not so!

If I hear this anywhere...Club Crucial, Club Primetime, S.O., or even Club Crunk, my ass is out of there faster than you can say "Ladies are free before midnight."



Okay, now...as if this'll make me feel any better about the current rap/club game...has anyone been all up in the club, having a really good time, you know, just turning shit out, and then the DJ just threw on some song so awful you can't even stay on the dancefloor? Tell me what song it was!

That way I can laugh and listen out for it next time I'm out!

Deuces,
Erika

Guesting: Missbehave and Me

So I, like all of you fellow readers most likely, am an unabashed Missbehave addict. No, really, I mean it-- addict. Some people collect bugs or postcards or other weird stuff (okay, so I kinda collect postcards too, whatevz), but I collect Missbehave memorabilia. I have both of the shirts (but only one came free-- the Hellz Bellz shirt I bought off Karmaloop with some Xmas dough; they never sent me one for the nice gift I sent them, but forgive and forget, I say), and every issue... except for one. The pesky one that got away: Issue #3, the Bijou Phillips cover.
I remember seeing this issue on newsstands at Barnes & Noble. My sister and I were running errands early last year and I spotted it. I picked it up and read a little, kind of intimidated at first. I asked my sister, "Allie, should I get this?" She was all, "It sounds kinda slutty." I guess I didn't want to feel like a mag-slut or something, so, like an idiot, I put it down.
I would soon discover how wrong I was. I got my hands on Issue #4 with one of my favorite ladies, Mena Suvari, and I realized that this was the very, very first time I'd read every word of any magazine. Ever. I was hooked. A subscription was obtained, I kinda weedled #1 and #2 from Samantha over e-mail, and the rest was history.
But #3 eluded me. I was pretty sure Samantha didn't like me and I didn't want to ask for another free magazine. I told myself I would save it for college when I had a different address and make the request in a name that was different. I've been desperate, you see?
But a week ago, this changed. It was listed on eBay. I was praying there'd be a Buy It Now option, but alas, there was none. Today the auction ended. I was in an Internet fight with some guy (regardless of gender).
And we battled. This is how it felt.

It was an hour-long battle. But who came out strong?! That's right, ME!!

And I'm only... um... say... (don't judge, I was in it to win it) $50 broker?

Yes. I, "Sun Protection Factor" (initials, not comfortable with revealing my last name over a wireless connection, but just know that through my name, I'm pretty much human sunscreen), paid half a Benjamin for the final piece in my Missbehave collection. I kinda feel like a bad person. But at the same time... redeemed. With some guilt.

A late summer job is in store, that's for sure. So I'm forced to return to eBay with designer clothes I bought for $3 (flipping is the secret to everything), a little more broke, but gratified and happy that my collection is finally complete.

LIVE TO WIN!!

Y Sarah

Whew...I Think It's Finally Over...

This, according to Google, is what feminism looks like apparently.

So over here at The Disco, we believe in women helping women. I personally like to think of this blog as a way for women to interact and commune with other women in a positive and uplifting manner. Even if that is just talking about bowling in three-inch heels. But still, I like to think that somehow, in some way, I'm bringing women who may never ever speak to each other, together to chat and relate to each other. I hope.

Honestly, I'm sure I'm a feminist. In the most modern sense, I guess. I believe women are smarter than society gives us credit for, and that women deserve to be independent of stereotypes and labels that old-world culture continue to give us. Women who sleep around are not sluts, and women who may strip to pay for bills and school are not necessarily whores. Men can turn to a life of crime and be glorified in some gangster movie while a woman chooses to take her clothes off in a safe setting with very tangible limits on what can and can't be done, to pay for her daughter's medical bills, perhaps, but she is a whore. Personally, I don't really know enough about the past, or the present for that matter, to make snap judgments about other women and their decisions or actions, based on some strict and concrete vision of what women should do or think, rather I like to try to understand all points of view and not necessarily judge someone because of what I believe is right. Because my standards are not another woman's standards. I don't think that just because I would rather watch Project Runway than CNN that I'm setting women back. I watch Headline News, btw, but I just think that the whole "setting women back" is an excuse to preach what you believe and refuse to accept the fact that women are not all about being cultured, well-educated presidents-in-training. Although, they can be if they so choose. See feminism, to me, is all about choice. But we seem to forget that.

Anyway, all of that prose was just to sort of lead into what I really have to talk about. Almost a month ago, Tracie Egan (Oh yes, the revered Slut Machine!) and her Jezebel compatriot Moe Tkacik appeared on Lizz Winstead's talk show, "Thinking and Drinking." Beforehand, and during the show, Tracie and Moe got a little drunk...well it sort of sounded like Moe got more than a little drunk, but that's just me, and proceeded to answer Winstead's really heavy queshes about feminism and date rape. Which, by the way, are really hard things to talk about while you're inebriated. Cause dudes, I can't even get through a sentence without cackling obnoxiously when I'm under the influence.

So after that there was a bit of a terrible backlash of comments and statements and really evil words on Slut Machine's blog, One D At A Time. I pretty much watched the whole thing pan out and was really disappointed with how women were literally spewing bile at Tracie while refusing to even talk about the issues raised during Lizz's show. It was sort of sad. Because you would think, hope, that while women would disagree with what was said on the show, they could at least discuss it in a very mature, progressive way. Really, women on women violence is the last thing we need in a world where women are still viewed as less than men. I watch episodes of Maury where women are controlled by the boyfriends and husbands, who in turn call them their "property." So the last thing we need right now is to tear each other down.

But today Tracie posted a final hurrah, if you will, saying her final piece about the, I don't know, incident. Here's a small excerpt:

Before my time at Jezebel, I worked at a feminist publication for several years. I think about this shit—feminism, sexism, etc.—constantly. So a couple of weeks ago, when I was pretty much lambasted for some (albeit drunken) public statements I made, the main thing that pissed me off was that people were trying to like revoke my Feminist Club membership or something. (And honestly, I don't want to even talk to about that shit anymore, but I'm not allowed to do so on the site I work for, as absolutely fucking retarded as that is, and I need to get this one last thing off my chest.) In the wake of all that hullabaloo, I realized that maybe this is a good thing, a jumping-off point to open up a discourse about how feminism is not monolithic. It's kind of like Christianity, in that there's this one core belief—that women are people, too—but there are all these different sects and theories as to what's the best way to practice that belief.

Here's the whole post.

And now she can get back to talking about fucking. Hooray! Because that's what I like to read!

Deuces,
Erika

Boys I Love: Mitch Fatel

WELL, I do really like boys. And I know what they like. They like me. (Anyone catch that reference? Riiiiight...) So I thought I would start a feature that acknowledges the sexy mans I secretly wanna love on. And by love on, I mean lock in a basement, tie to the radiator, free only to have amazing sex con me or create some kind of entertainment in the hopes of being released from my crazy captive clutches, and feed only foods that would ensure their sexiness would never fade (read: Mike & Ike's, chocolate, wine spritzers...).

This post is about Mitch Fatel.

I personally harbor a secret and dangerous ardor towards most any and all comedians. And it doesn't stop at just the men. I have some hetero crushes on a few choice comediennes as well. No homo. But that's not the point.

The point is that you really cannot judge a book by its cover. Or a man by his appearance. Because while Mitch Fatel appears to be socially and physically awkward, and also teetering just on the edge of retardation, this man just may be all that, and more, but he is one of the funniest guys I've seen in a very long time.

Mr. Fatel is an eager bachelor that enjoys panties (on the women, of course), making sure women have an orgasm before he does (for the post sex sandwiches that inevitably follow), but does not enjoy masturbating in the shower (because his legs give out and he rips down the curtain).

He claims to be the leader of the mentally challenged, because he can still cut his own meat, and is sometimes afraid of women during sex because he had one girl that slammed his head against his headboard. Not so with me, Mitch, because I have no headboard. When he dies he wants to tell God that he did a good job when he made vaginas, and compares his enjoyment of doggy-style to a woman's enjoyment of a sunset.

Oh Mitch, you can come live with me in my pleasure palace. I'll pad the walls with bubble wrap and cut your meat for you. As long as you promise to keep me satisfied, I'll keep the egg salad sandwiches coming.



Deuces,
Erika

Of Montreal Listening Party Tonight!

Erm, I don't even know if anyone besides me listens to Of Montreal, but I'm mostly just posting this for myself, because I would love to go if I lived in the East Village...or, um, New York City at all. Come out and join other drunken New Yawkers and listen to the pre-release of Of Montreal's new Skeletal Lamping LP before anyone else does! And then talk to the super guys from Polyvinyl! They seem nice.

And then after all that, turn your eyes to the horizon and watch Grizzly Bear on Letterman tonight!

Fun, fun, fun till daddy takes the T-Bird away!

Hi-Fi bar
10 pm - 12:30 am
21+

Okay bye, have fun, I wish I lived in New York!

Deuces,
Erika

I Spit Hot Fire

He can sit next to me on the bus any day!

Okay, before I even talk about this post, the title of it is from one of my favorite Chapelle's Show episodes. If you can tell me anything about it, like what the short was about or what show it was spoofing, I might just love you. And if I meet you, I'll give you my issue of Missbehave Magazine number five autographed by Miss MIA herself. Just kidding. I totally would never do that. Still, I would think you were cool.

Anyway, onto the point, right? Soooooo....we all love Diplo here at The Disco. (Isn't it awesome how I can refer to this virtual place like it's some kind of real office or something? Someone could come along and assume The Disco had a physical location, with a mailing address and everything, which is stupid, 'cause real G's rock P.O. Boxes, y'know, so they can't be traced.)

Back to Diplo. I luh him. He is a sexy manz. We have all seen him. Most of us have seen him live. Diplo is known for his ability to put fire on any track. He did it with "Rollin" and "Bama Gettin' Money." This man is no joke. Straight up fly-er than a tsetse.

He did it again with Santi. I actually don't know what the original track sounded like because none of my friends will buy me the Santogold album (Oh poo, you guys are low on money? Not when the weed man shows up! Now buy me that record!), but Diplo made it 32749371294 times hotter.

You gotta put this song on and just ride...y'know, like me, only I always ride dirty. Or blast it while you're chilling at home and see how long it takes for one of your roommates to ask what you're playing. Either way, Diplo spits hot fire ya'll.



Santogold: "Starstruck (Diplo Remix)"

Cop Diplo's newest mix, Top Ranking, here mothasuckas!

Deuces,
Erika

Guestblog: "You're really, really hungry and you're dying to have lunch with me."

Chances are, if you visit The Disco (as Erika has decided to slangify the blog) frequently, you'd know that the brilliant British series Secret Diary of a Call Girl is something of an obsession here.

Last night's episode was a real killer (my favorite quote from it is in the header), but what I know I'm waiting for is some Ben-prostitution! I'm totally in love with Ben and we all know he and Hannah have done it, but I'm pretty excited to see it go down. Ben is pretty much the cutest thing ever and if I were a prostitute and he reviewed me like that, I'd probably cry. Ben + Hannah 43v3rz!!

Unfortunately, after this episode, we'll only have one left to go until the first season is kaput! What the hell?! But the good news is that starting August 1, Gossip Girl's second season is thirty-one days away! What will keep me TV-company in those three lonely weeks following Secret Diary's end? I know season two has been made already in the UK, but does anyone know if it's been renewed for Showtime? Dying for some scoop on that front. Hannah/Belle has made a summer without Blair/Serena actually livable.

What are your thoughts on Ben and Hannah? If you found out your hot ex and current best friend was a prostitute, what would you do?

On pins and needles (which reminds me I need to catch up on Project Runway...),
Y Sarah

P.S. I found this sexy trivia game on the Secret Diary wiki! Take it and learn some freaky shit. For instance, Cleopatra's a total freak. This isn't in this quiz, but rumor has it that she used a jar of bees as what's believed to be history's first vibrator. Crazy facts. Cleopatra was uncomfortably creative.

So get schooled. Trust me, it's a lot of fun!

Offical Fan Site of Secret Diary of a Call Girl

Guest blogginz: Pleased to meet you! Hope you guess my name...

But what's puzzlin' you is just the nature of my game. Word to the Stones.
So hai! Nice to meet you, enchantée, etc.-- from now until next week, I'll be your friendly neighborhood guest-blogger. Let's get acquainted, shall we?

Bachelorette #2 hails from Tulsa, OK with the common biblical name of Sarah, which won't be common when everyone's naming their kids after fruits and cities. She's known on the Internet as Lolita Hazed, but she doesn't sleep with older men or anything (y'know, as long as they're not Joseph Gordon Levitt), she just harbors a toxic obsession with Nabokov's opus. She'll be a senior this year and is ready to get out of town ASAP. She likes champagne, French boys and non-sequiturs. She doesn't like people who try too hard or writing about herself in the third person.

That's me on the left! I thought it'd be for optimum blogger-to-reader relativity and whatnot, since we're going to be best friends and all.I'm really looking forward to dishing endlessly to all you kids. I'll be kinda like that archetypal uncle who tells you stories about fishing, except I suck at fishing, but that's okay.

So, what's in store for this week? As of yet, I don't know, but my job'll be attempting to beat Erika to it (love you!) and entertaining such a lovely bunch as you guys. We're gonna have a lot of fun, you and I!

So, until then, I'll catch you kids on the flipside.

Y Sarah (Lolita Hazed)

Pinup Tattoos

For the longest time, I've been playing with the idea of getting a tattoo. I haven't mostly because I'm too lazy to go to the tat shop and make an appointment, although they do allow walk-ins. Still, I don't have the motivation to go, but I do have the motivation to get a tattoo before I move to LA, because then I'll have to do the research on a good parlor all over again. Like hell could I afford (time and money wise) to schlep to Hollywood and go to LA Ink.

But prior to me turning 18, I was super stoked to get a tattoo, so I did a ton of research on designs and art. I've decided to get a Fafi drawing on my right arm, namely this one:

But that still leaves me with a personal conundrum. All my life (or at least since 9th grade), I've sort of been in love with pin-up art. It's just really cute and really timeless to me. Mostly I just love Gil Elvgren, because his, to me, is the best. After spending hours on the computer trying to find a picture, I found these two:

Only, she's going to be sitting on old records and her hand is going to be on a phonograph. That's one of these, for those who don't know.

Because of the colors she's wearing, I think I would make her a lot tanner, closer to my skin tone, but lighter of course so it would show up really well against my skin.

I just haven't decided where to put it. My back seems like the most obvious option because of the space, but I don't want to get a tattoo and then not be able to see it all the time. I like constant reminders of hard work and having fun. I could put it on my stomach, but that's not gonna stay tight and taut forever and I would prefer my tattoo not gain weight as I did.

So does anyone have any advice for trying to get sort of large tats? Anyone have a large tat? Anyone come across more amazing Gil Elvgren pin-ups?

Deuces,
Erika

Bye Bye Valentina! And Now For Something Completely Different...

So this week was an odd one. Starbucks locations all over the country are shutting down, we're running out of white people, we got to judge a new cast of aspiring douchebag designer assholes, and Batman blew everyone away. Duh.

It's a pretty slow day, and I'm spending it watching the Mad Men Season 1 marathon on AMC. I haven't seen it since the original episodes aired, so it's nice to have a recap. Because it's a grossly hot, sluggish Sunday, I'll give your ears some food for thought with a video from Neon Neon.

I didn't know they made a video for this song until I saw it last night. Enjoy!

"I Lust U"




And big goodbyes and thank yous to Valentina for guest blogging this week! Do It At The Disco has never looked better! We can all look forward to hearing from Lolita Hazed starting this Monday. Happy Sunday!

Banzai bitches!

Deuces,
Erika

Guest Blogger: Siren Music Festival!

I love music. Like, there is really nothing I love more than listening to it, whether in the comfort of my own home, or in an actual venue. I will do a lot of shit out of my love of music. I will go to hellish-ly hot outdoor venues, and wade through a mass of people who have decided to abandon regular bathing habits. I am willing to be physically crushed by these people as I attempt to move forward to get a better view of the stage. I do these things in the name of music. Sometimes I am rewarded with a great show, other times I am disappointed. It doesn’t matter, it was still worth it either way. Here is my account of the Siren festival, (sorry it technically was written on Sunday E)!

So, after the longest train ride known to man, we finally make it to Coney Island. FUCK. It was soo hot. And I was wearing a tank and shorts. Thank god I’m a girl, and can wear a very minimal amount of clothing during the summer. But, whatevs, after waiting around a while, we decided to head over to the main stage to see The Dodos. Sorry, no pictures of this event. I was too far back, and waay too short to even consider trying to get pictures. I want to say something about them, but I honestly can’t remember anything about their set other than it was scorching. This is going to become a running theme throughout the day. After this, my friends decided they wanted to go to the beach for a little bit. Because of this excursion I missed motherfucking Times New Viking. Thanks guys. Way to be good friends. Just kidding, but it’s ok, cause none of them read this. To amuse myself on the beach I took random pictures.

That guy in the white shirt on the right-ish was kinda hot. Hence the random photo. Sorry, it get's better after this, kay?

So finally, we headed back to the stage for Ra Ra Riot. Who were pretty good, though I'm pretty sure the lead singer was stoned the entire time (my friend disagrees with me, but he is wrong obvi). I'll give them a little free promotion here, and tell you their album is gonna be out on august 19th, if you care. Due to an act of what was, I believe god himself, a huge ass mothafucker in front of me actually moved! Allowing me to get these semi-decent shots for you guys. Don’t ever say that I don’t love you. The entire concert I was just thinking about how I was going to blog this experience to you. So sad, so true. This is the lead singer. Cute, if you're into hippie stoner boys. Oh, who am I kidding, I love me some hippie boys. This is a shitty photo, but I wanted you to see that awesome yellow guitar. Not gonna lie, it was pretty sweet.

Check out the cellist. She was hardcore man.

I personally found this girl's hair color amusing. It was a really bizarre red/pinkish color.
My friend made a fortune teller out of the free fan they gave us.

Blah, blah, blah, standing around blah, blah, blah. Now, you guys know who my favorite band of the day is gonna be, right? I talk about them a lot, so if you've been paying attention to me, this should be a no-brainer. Yes it's true, Islands FUCKING KILLED IT!! I mean I liked them before, I fucking love them now. Best band of the day, for sure.I have absolutely no complaints about you Islands, you were perfect. I wasn’t even that hot when I saw you cause we found a spot in the shade! Their stage presence was amazing too, as the lead singer came out with a garbage can over his head, and later proceeded to tell us that if we were too hot, we should just “take your pants off, cause that feels fucking awesome!”. Omgz, you guys, I can’t even properly convey just how much they rocked, other than to tell you that their show was like the best party I’ve been to in a long time. It was difficult to get pics, but here are the two I managed, both very blurry.
Holy shit, dude, you are amazing.
Check out those sah-weet shades. I loved them so much, I had to get a really crappy picture of them.

I was going to try for more pictures, but I was having too much fun dancing and whatnot. I plan on eventually ripping some from facebook once they are posted and putting them on my blog. Can you read this? It says, "Shoot the Freak". Which would make an awesome band name.
Wild Women and Wise Guys. Coney Island is just a wealth of potential band names. Go ahead and use this one if you want, Shoot the Freak is mine, though.

So finally, after a very long day it was time. Time for the main act, the star of the show. Broken Social Scene, in this case. Now, I wish there were words to explain just what this show was like. It was the worst clusterfuck you could ever imagine, as the scents of pot, body odor, sweat, and god knows what else mingled in the air. Fuck, it was terrible, not gonna lie. My friend and I made a valiant attempt to wade through this crowd, but it was totally pointless. I couldn't see the band at all, and was literally crammed into a space that made it impossible to move without hitting someone. We hightailed it out of there, and decided to go over to the walkway and just stand against the fence. Much better plan. Sure we had to contend with people constantly walking past us towards the beach, but I actually had the ability to move freely, so I was not complaining. Broken Social Scene was amazing, I mean it was a short set, but the energy and passion they brought made it special. If you've ever been to a concert of theirs, than you know how much fun the theraputic scream thing is. Cluster. Fuck.

Oh, I'm sorry, did you want like nice, clear, pictures of this event? Yeah, so did I. We can't always get what we want though, can we?

Finally the concert was over. It was a fun day. I was called an "indie kid" and a "new york hipster" on two different occasions. I don't think I'm either of those. Maybe I'm both. I returned to the city, to find the most freakishly empty train station ever. It was fucking creepy, dudes. And the subway ride just got creepier on the way home, when I was lucky enough to sit next to what I believe was an actual insane person. Like, he was totally crazy. I'm fairly certain that he could possibly be our crazy Tyra missbehave commenter (btw, has anyone seen Tyra recently?!). He started to talk to me about his day, and asked me if I liked his shorts. He apparently cut them himself, and wanted reassurance that they looked good. Also discussed (by him) was sweat, Interpol, free concerts, and ear piercing. Thank the lord that my new bff got off a stop before me, crazy dudes like him do not need to know where I live. I'm telling you though, I can draw the crazies in like no one else. Alright, I'm tired, it's like 1:40 right now and I need my energy for summerstage tomorrow, if I actually can find someone to go with me. Having no friends sucks sometimes.

Valentina