Money Over Bitches

Yeah, I didn't actually take this picture.

So last night saw yet another installment of what I'm now going to call E+V's Big Night Out (EVBNO for all you stock analysts). First we headed over to the Third St Promenade in Santa Monica, where we both picked up the newest issue of MissB, which is amazing if you haven't had the pleasure of getting your ProNail-ed hands on it.

While standing in line for the bathroom at Starbucks, we were then hit on/accosted by some guy with a heavy Spanish accent who complemented me about my shirt and then asked me where the Valley was. It was weird. Word. Then a strange twelve year old came up to me and high fived me.

After that, around midnight/ 1am, we headed over to the Sunset Strip where I was completely determined to have some delicious and cheap pizza. Sadly, determination isn't everything, because I never got it. However, we did find a radio station that played all 80s all weekend, so we got to jam out to 80s synth pop dance tunes the entire night.

It was just as we were getting tired-ish and forlorn (though still energetic from the Annie Lennox and Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam), I spotted The Body Shop.

That's right lads and lasses, V and I spent our night in Hollywood at the strip club. And it was awesome. After I got past the sad fact that I couldn't afford to eat after paying the 10.00 cover and the club didn't serve food, I actually enjoyed myself. V and I are sort of obsessed with this one stripper, who after some research, is apparently named Isis. She was/is amazing. First of all, she's got this Mexican vibe going on so she was wearing this cute-ish belly dancer style outfit and the most fucking ridiculous pair of six-inch stilettos that made her immediately earn my and V's respeto. She glided and danced and did a few acrobatic tricks that were super cool.

But for the most part that club is crapsicles on ice. The music skipped, one of the dancers took off her skirt and started "ahem" touching herself. Oh and then one of the girls started dancing to Pat fucking Benatar. Now I can never listen to "Hit Me With Your Best Shot," for more than obvi reasons. Outside the club we got propositioned with an offer to jump into some dude's party bus, but luckily for me I have the best excuse EVER: "Um, sorry, but I have to get home. I live in the Valley." Works like a charm every fucking time.

Um, and then I got a parking ticket, V and I went to In N Out Burger, my roommate was a rude bitch this morning, and the trains don't run on Saturdays. Salud!

Deuces,
Erika

Cribs: Erika Edition

So I believe I got a request from a Miss Alex about posting up pics of my new place, and I'm more than happy to oblige! Plus I don't have anything to talk about. Photos usually distract from that.And here, ladies and gents, is my bedroom. It's pretty awesome. The blue Grizzly Bear poster and the huge ass byoP poster I got free from Criminal Records. The Pipettes poster and the Nicole Atkins poster were both looted from the venue after said concert. The dark pink poster with the face on it is actually from the New Young Pony Club album. I got the MIA bandana free, too...but it's a long story...and I got that red poster from this awesome ATL concert for Stomp And Stammer Magazine...The Black Lips, Deerhunter, Snowden, and the Selmanaires...all for 15.oo, and I won tickets for it on the radio. Sometimes Atlanta's pretty cool. Usually not.
In case you can't tell, my calendar is by Donny Miller. In case you aren't familiar with his awesomeness, read up. You can also read the running dialogue between me and V. Those Feist pictures are actually postcards that my old boss from the radio station gave me. I had 4 but I gave two to my boyfriend since he likes B&W photos so much. It's an artist thing. The cool thing about that Matt & Kim poster is that my boyfriend actually got Kim to sign it for me as an early birthday present. We saw them when they came to the Whirlyball as a part of the Fuck Yeah Fest, and they were awesome. Matt even hugged me! Kim and I talked too, and she laughed at how excited I was. And as you can see, I've collected all the MIA for Marc Jacobs ads...mostly because I like MIA but I love Juergen Teller.
The pink Boris poster was free from an in-store at Criminal Records (they played ONE song and it lasted about 15 minutes!) and the Arctic Monkeys poster was from when they played at the Tabernacle about 2 years ago. It was fresh off the release of their latest album. And all the
8.5 x 11 glossies were pulled from Nylon or Missbehave.

Wow, that was cool. I sort of felt like I was featured on Todd Selby's site for a second. Huh. Oh yeah, and this is my bike. My boyfriend made me take a billion pictures of it. I always joke that he's only into bike porn.
I ride it to school about 3 times a week, which saves a good bit of gas, but takes twice as long. Oh well. Every time I get tired riding it, I think to myself, I'm gonna be so skinny by the end of this year! And then I press on. Motivation, kids. Motivation.

Deuces,
Erika

Dip. Lo. In. Rainbows.

Just kidding everybody! These are the pics from the Diplo set I peeped last Friday! Each will come with a crazy/funny/witty/oh she missed that joke/sarcastic caption! But these don't even do that show proper justice, espesh since there are no pictures of the Dark Meat set (since I didn't see it) and all the Diplo pics were taken by my (slightly tipsy) boyfriend. Oh well. You've got pictures, I've got memories, comme ci, comme ça.

This was Noot D'Noot. Those girls, E-Fec-Tiv, are so awesome. I ran into them in the ladies room and they were super cool.

The drunken hipsters started Whiryballing between sets. A lot of guys were playing but I think it was to watch the girls' chests when they leaned forward to steer their car. Pigs.

This guy was killing it with his outfit and his dance moves. He was shaking his groove thing right behind me. His friend was trying to hex us with his eyes.

Me, obvi. If you're super interested in my styling choice for the evening, I was wearing a navy/white striped tunic over a yellow cami with black leggings and yellow flats. Those cute pink earrings are from Forever 21 and they only cost me 3.80! For some reason, the pictures I've been taking lately look as if they were taken in 1988. Must figure out why!

And of course, the man of the evening. Diplo was looking like his usual cool/fine self. I think Dark Meat got to him pre-set and gave him the face/war paint.

My boyfriend got this really cool, ghoulish picture of Diplo. They kept turning off the lights and putting on the strobes. It was kind of sick.

The whole show was badass, ya'll. Badass. And if you missed the Missbehave fete, the pics of that are up too! Punch punch!

Deuces,
Erika

Happy Birthday, Erika: The Aftermath

Today is my birthday! Did you read the post below? Okay, okay. Good deal, good deal. Well, the day went as follows: (in present tense, because it's funnier)

I wake up early enough to catch the first showing of Maury. Paternity tests till your eyes bleed. After that I fart around for awhile. Boring, boring, boring. I run to Criminal, pick up some concert tickets, harass some skater guys, then go get a manicure.

Dude, you should see my nails. They are so bright and neon orange they should be doing the Safety Dance. Afterwards, I return home, hang with my friends a bit. We act like idiots and spend our time laughing like stoners.

Then we all go bowling. I have some kind of super coupon that allows us to only pay 5 dollars for two games and free shoe rental. We bowl for a bit, all the while trying to avoid the Bratz doll 15 year olds that keep flitting around in little denim shorts and barely there tanktops. And even with all that, these are the things society is having an ish with??

So then it comes time to eat. My cake is at home, but I have carted two boxes of pizza to the alley with me because I have been given permission to by an anonymous Brunswick employee. I am stopped at the door with my pizzas, and told I am not allowed to eat it. Some scuffling later, my homies and I are forced to eat outside, while thunder threatens overhead. Some jokes are made and then we return to bowling.
One round late, we join the currently going trivia game. It is obvious that I know all the answers since I answered all the questions we were too late to answer...correct. My team is called Team AA HAKH, since it is the last letter of all our first names. My idea to name the team Team Bowling Hoes goes unheard.

I bowl a 109, but still lose, and then we manage to come in third in trivia. As a result, we win two free bowling passes none of us will use. I have answered the toughest queshes, like in what country did the futon originate (Japan) and what kind of animal was Rikki Tiki Tavi (mongoose). I am declared amazing. This I know.

In the car back to my place, my two friends and I play an epic and controversial game of Would You Rather? I become the WYR master. Some of my questions are:

Would you rather eat a spoonful of fire ants or lick a cow's ass?
Would you rather stand in a hailstorm naked or stand in a lightning storm wearing an aluminum bikini?
Would you rather be naked and roll around in gravel and rocks or roll around in a tub full of sperm?
Would you rather be high all your life or be drunk all your life?

Some of my friend's equally awesome queshes are:

Would you rather be pressure-washed naked or climb a telephone pole naked?
Would you rather have everything you see be so fuzzy that you can't make out what it is or just be blind?
Would you rather have someone shoot you in the eye or drink a mixture of glass and water?

After that quesh, I added, "and if you had the glass mixture, you had to drink a cup of orange juice." Because I am a sick bastard. And I think making people cringe is funny.

Finally, there is some cake cutting. I cannot properly wield a knife and so an entire cake slice is dropped on the floor. My bad.Some more WYR is played. Some photos are taken. People say goodbye and I watch them leave.

It is a good birthday. But the 4th of July ish still remains to be had.

Deuces,
Erika